#finished reading the last chapter of gravity :')))))
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Love Is Embarrassing - Part Eight
>> when are all my excuses of learning my lessons gonna start to feel sad? <<
pairing - theodore nott x fem! reader
summary - when you agree to help Theo out with a bet, you learn that maybe the bad boy isn't actually that bad
warnings - a little angsty, jealous!theo, mention of y/n
wordcount - 3.7k
a/n - okay, I finally managed to finish this last chapter. thank you so much to everyone who is still reading and commenting, even though it took me months to wrap this up. I love and appreciate you 💕
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The fluorescent lights of the grocery store cast a bright glow over the aisles, illuminating the colorful array of products lining the shelves. Theo strolled through the store, while you sat in the cart, snacks and essentials piled high around you.
The grocery store aisles became their battleground as they playfully bantered over the best candy for their movie night. With each turn down a new aisle, the debate intensified. Theo's arguments for the tangy delight of sour candies clashed with your unwavering devotion to the sweet satisfaction of chocolate.
Your banter echoed through the grocery store aisles, drawing amused glances from other shoppers. You grinned mischievously from your perch in the cart, throwing playful jabs at Theo's taste in candy while he retaliated with mock indignation.
As you rounded the corner into the snack aisle, a familiar voice called out, interrupting your lively debate. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/n!"
You turned to see a young man standing before you, a wide smile spread across his face. He was tall and lanky, with tousled red hair that seemed to defy gravity, and a pair of bright blue eyes that sparkled with warmth and familiarity. It took you a moment to recognise who was talking to you. He was someone you used to go to school with, a friendly face from your hometown that you hadn't seen in years. You remembered his mother used to be friends with yours and wondered if they still talked.
"Jake! Wow, it's been forever," you exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see him.
Theo's expression shifted imperceptibly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he observed the exchange between you and Jake. He remained silent, pushing the cart forward as you engaged in conversation with your old friend.
"Hey, yeah, it really has," Jake replied with a grin, his eyes scanning over Theo before returning to you. "Looks like you've got some company."
You nodded, gesturing toward the tall boy behind you. "Yeah, this is Theo. He's a friend from college. We’re visiting for the holidays."
"Nice to meet you, Theo," Jake said, extending a hand.
Theo shook it with a polite smile, though you couldn't help but notice the slight tensing of his jaw. "Likewise."
"So, what brings you guys to the grocery store?" Jake asked, falling into step beside the cart as you continued down the aisle.
"We're stocking up for a movie night," you explained, reaching for a bag of popcorn on the shelf. "Trying to decide on the best snacks."
Jake chuckled. "Ah, the eternal struggle. Sweet or savory?"
"Exactly," you agreed. "We've been debating it all afternoon."
"Well, if you ask me, you can't go wrong with a good mix of both," Jake suggested, grabbing a bag of chips from the shelf. "Cover all your bases, you know?"
You laughed, nodding in agreement as you took the bag from his hands, stashing down at your feet. "That's true."
As you caught up with Jake, sharing stories and reminiscing about the past, Theo's demeanor became increasingly guarded. He made casual remarks, joining in the conversation, but there was a subtle tension in his voice that betrayed his unease.
You couldn't help but notice the shift in Theo's demeanor, sensing the underlying tension beneath his attempts to appear unaffected. Despite his efforts to hide it, his jealousy simmered just beneath the surface, evident in the way he subtly tightened his grip on the cart handle. You assumed he was growing tired of being in the store and wanted to go home.
"So, Y/n, it's been ages since we hung out," Jake said, his tone filled with enthusiasm as he glanced between you and Theo. "Mind if I crash your movie night?"
You hesitated, exchanging a quick glance with Theo before responding. "Uh, well, my mom wouldn't really be a fan of that...Danny hasn’t been feeling well and she doesn’t really want the house to be even fuller, you know."
Theo's grip on the cart tightened slightly, a subtle indication of his discomfort with the idea. You could sense his unease, and while you didn't want to upset him, you also didn't want to leave Jake hanging. "But we should definitely catch up sometime this week," you continued, offering Jake a friendly smile. "How about we grab coffee or something?"
Jake's expression brightened at the suggestion, seemingly unfazed by the rejection of the movie night invitation. "That sounds great! I'll shoot you a text and we'll figure out a time."
"Sounds like a plan," you agreed, relieved that Jake was understanding.
Jake bid you farewell with a friendly wave before heading off to finish his own shopping. As he disappeared around the corner, you turned your attention back to Theo, who had fallen unusually quiet. "Hey, you okay?" you asked, noticing the tension in his shoulders.
Theo shrugged, his gaze fixed on the items lining the shelves. "Yeah, just tired, I guess."
You frowned, not entirely convinced by his response. "Are you sure? You seemed a little... off back there."
He forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, really. Let's just finish up here and head home."
Deciding not to press the issue further for now, you nodded, though a sense of unease lingered in the back of your mind. Theo's sudden change in demeanor had caught you off guard, and while you wanted to believe his explanation, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering him.
●・○・●・○・●
Later that night, as you settled in for movie night, the tension between you and Theo remained palpable. He had taken a seat next to Danny, much to your little brother's excitement, leaving you to occupy the spot on the other side of the couch. You tried to brush off the unease gnawing at you, attributing it to Theo's earlier mood and hoping that he would warm up as the evening progressed.
Throughout the movie, Theo seemed distant, his attention focused solely on the screen. You caught glimpses of his profile in the dim glow of the television, his features drawn and unreadable. Despite your attempts to engage him in conversation or share a joke, he remained reserved, his responses curt and unenthusiastic.
As the movie played on, the atmosphere in the room grew increasingly strained. You stole glances at Theo, hoping for some sign that he was feeling better, but he remained aloof, his gaze fixed on the screen.
"That girl reminds me so much of Pansy," you reached around Danny and nudged him gently, trying to draw him into the moment.
He offered a half-hearted chuckle in response, but his eyes never left the television. Your heart sank further at his lack of engagement, the distance between you feeling more pronounced than ever.
When your mom suggested playing a game after the movie, you saw an opportunity to break the tension. "That sounds like fun, doesn't it?" you glanced over at Theo, hoping for a spark of enthusiasm.
But he shook his head, his expression apologetic. "I think I'm gonna call it a night, actually. I'm feeling pretty tired."
Disappointment washed over you as you watched him stand up and make his way towards the stairs. "Oh, okay. Well, goodnight, then," you forced a smile, trying to hide the hurt in your voice.
"Night," Theo replied softly, his tone devoid of its usual warmth as he disappeared upstairs.
After the game ended, you made your way upstairs, feeling a heavy weight in your chest. The events of the evening lingered in your mind, leaving you with a sense of unease that refused to dissipate.
Entering your room, you found Theo already lying in bed, his back turned towards you. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Quietly, you slipped under the covers, careful not to disturb him. Tentatively, you reached out to him, your fingers lightly brushing against his back as they had the night before.
To your surprise, he recoiled at your touch, pushing your hand away before shifting further away from you. The rejection stung, a sharp pang of hurt piercing through your chest as you withdrew your hand, feeling the distance between you grow even wider.
Heart heavy with disappointment and confusion, you lay there in silence. Eventually, exhaustion overtook you, and you drifted off to sleep, the ache of unspoken words weighing heavily on your mind.
●・○・●・○・●
The next morning, you awoke to find Theo's side of the bed empty, a cold reminder of the distance that had grown between you overnight. Pushing aside the covers, you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of your stomach.
Descending the stairs, you followed the sound of soft conversation to the living room, where you found Theo seated beside your mother, a smile gracing his features as they engaged in lively conversation. Your mother sat in her favorite armchair, her knitting needles in her hands, while Theo held the yarn for her, his expression one of genuine warmth.
You stood there for a moment, watching the scene unfold before you, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over you. Confusion battled with longing, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the easy camaraderie between Theo and your mother. You couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly acting so cold towards you, all of it reminding you of those last weeks you shared with Grady.
As you observed them, a sudden realization dawned upon you, crystal clear and undeniable. It hit you with the force of a revelation, leaving you breathless and reeling. In that moment, you understood the depth of your feelings for Theo, the profound connection that had blossomed between you, unnoticed and unspoken.
You had fallen for him, deeply and irrevocably, in a way you had never imagined possible. The realization was both exhilarating and terrifying, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you as you grappled with the newfound truth.
Caught in the whirlwind of emotions, you barely noticed your mother's gaze turning toward you, her warm smile inviting you to join them. You hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether you were ready to face Theo right now.
"Good morning, sweetheart," she greeted you, her voice soft and comforting. "Come join us."
With a small nod, you crossed the room to take a seat beside Theo, trying to ignore the chasm of distance that seemed to have grown between you overnight. His smile faltered slightly as you approached, and the view felt like a kick to your stomach.
"Morning," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced at the boy beside you, searching for any sign of the warmth that had usually filled his gaze when looking at you.
He met your eyes briefly before turning his attention back to your mother, his smile returning, albeit slightly forced. "Morning, trouble."
Despite the tension lingering in the air, your mother seemed oblivious to it. She continued to chat animatedly, her happy voice filling the room.
As the conversation lulled, you seized the opportunity to broach the subject of spending the day together. "Hey, do you want to do anything today?" you asked tentatively, nudging the side of his leg with yours.
He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "Actually, I'll be pretty busy today," he replied, his tone carefully neutral. "Your mom and I have been talking about some things she's been procrastinating on fixing around the house, and I promised her I'd do some of it today."
You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at his response, though you tried to mask it with a supportive smile. "That's sweet of you," you said softly. "Do you need any help?"
He shook his head, his gaze flickering briefly to meet yours. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather do it alone," he said, his tone gentle but firm.
You swallowed back the hurt that threatened to rise in your throat, forcing a smile as you nodded in understanding. "Okay, just let me know if you change your mind," you replied, though the words felt hollow on your tongue.
Sitting there, the realization of your feelings for him weighing heavily on your mind, you found yourself contemplating your next move. Your mind drifted back to Jake and the casual invitation you had extended to catch up over coffee.
With Theo occupied for the day, the prospect of spending time with an old friend seemed more appealing than ever.Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you scrolled through your contacts until you found Jake's number. With a hesitant finger hovering over the screen, you debated whether to send the text.
"Since you're going to be busy today, I might text Jake and see if he wants to hang out. Is that okay?"
Theo's expression shifted slightly, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes before he shook his head. "Yeah, that sounds fine.”
You sighed inwardly, feeling a twinge of disappointment at Theo's response, but you nodded, trying to hide any trace of your feelings. "Alright, I'll let you get to it then," you said, forcing a smile.
Walking back upstairs and entering your room, you sank onto the edge of the bed, the familiar comfort of the space offering little solace. Resting your head in your hands, you allowed yourself a moment of vulnerability, the realization of your feelings for Theo crashing over you like a tidal wave.
●・○・●・○・●
As you stepped into the quiet house, the familiar creak of the front door seemed to echo in the silence. The subdued atmosphere enveloped you like a heavy blanket, casting a pall over your spirits as you made your way to the kitchen.
There, you found Theo sitting alone at the table, a steaming mug of hot chocolate cradled in his hands. The soft glow of the overhead light illuminated his features, casting shadows across his face that seemed to deepen the lines of tension etched there.
"Hey," you greeted him softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room.
He looked up, his gaze meeting yours briefly before flicking away. "Hey," he replied, his tone guarded.
Sensing the tension in the air, you hesitated for a moment before taking a seat opposite him at the table. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.
Finally, unable to bear the weight of the silence any longer, you spoke up. "I just got back from hanging out with Jake," you said, trying to keep your tone light despite the undercurrent of unease.
Theo's grip on his mug tightened slightly, though he maintained his composure. "Oh, did you have fun?" he asked, his words laced with a hint of passive-aggression.
You bristled at the tone of his question, sensing the underlying tension beneath his seemingly casual inquiry. "Yeah, it was nice," you replied carefully, not wanting to escalate the situation.
Theo's lips twitched into a tight smile, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil swirling within him. "Good to know," he muttered, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.
The atmosphere in the kitchen grew increasingly strained. You wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the gap between you, but you didn't know where to begin. As you tried to come up with something else to say, your body froze when you heard him scoff.
The noise cut through the tense silence like a knife, leaving you feeling like you'd been slapped. The suddenness of it startled you, and you couldn't help but recoil slightly, a mixture of confusion and hurt flashing across your features.
"What?" you demanded, your voice sharper than intended as you searched his face for any hint of an explanation.
Theo hesitated, his gaze darting away from yours as if seeking refuge in the shadows of the room. "Nothing," he muttered, his tone defensive. "Forget it."
But you couldn't forget it, couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong between you. "No, I won't forget it," you insisted, your voice rising with each word as you stood up from your chair to round the table. "You've been acting weird since yesterday, and I don’t know what happened. Tell me what's going on, Theo."
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might refuse to answer. But then, with a heavy sigh, he relented, his words dripping with frustration. "Fine, you want to know what's going on? I'll tell you. I'm tired of this."
Theo's words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. You stood there, staring at him, waiting for him to continue, your heart pounding in your chest.
"Tired of what?" you prompted, your voice barely above a whisper, though it carried the weight of a thousand unanswered questions.
His gaze met yours, and for a moment, you saw the storm raging behind his eyes. "Tired of pretending," he replied, his voice low and filled with bitterness. "Tired of pretending that you're mine when you're not."
His words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling with disbelief. "What do you mean?" you demanded, your voice rising in pitch as you struggled to comprehend his words.
Theo stood up from his chair, his movements tense and controlled. "You know exactly what I mean," he shot back, his frustration boiling over into anger. "You keep stringing me along, making me think that there's something between us when there's not."
His accusations cut deep, slicing through the fragile facade of your relationship and leaving you exposed and vulnerable. "That's not fair," you protested, your voice trembling. "I've never tried to lead you on, Theo. I care about you more than anything."
"Then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you keep going from being all over me when we’re alone to introducing me as your ‘friend’" he countered, his voice rising with each word as he took a step closer to you, his eyes burning with intensity. "Why do you keep pretending like there's nothing between us when we both know that's not true?"
"I'm not pretending," you insisted, your voice cracking as you met his gaze head-on. "I'm just... scared."
Theo's expression softened slightly at your words, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "Scared of what?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost pleading.
"Scared of losing you," you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "Scared of ruining what we have because I'm too afraid to admit how much you mean to me."
Theo's anger seemed to evaporate in an instant, replaced by a raw vulnerability that mirrored your own. "I'm scared too," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to take your hand in his. "Scared of letting you go because I'm too afraid to admit that I love you."
In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you and Theo stood there, locked in each other's gaze, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air between you. The tension that had once divided you now seemed to dissolve, leaving only the raw vulnerability of your shared emotions.
Without a word, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around Theo in a tight embrace. He responded eagerly, pulling you close as if he never wanted to let you go.
"I love you," you whispered against his chest, the words spilling forth from your heart without hesitation.
Theo pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that took your breath away. "I love you too," he replied, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and longing.
Without another word, Theo cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. His thumbs brushed lightly against your cheeks, tracing the curve of your jawline as if committing every detail of your face to memory. You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hands against your skin.
Drawing you closer, Theo's arms enveloped you, pulling you flush against his chest. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in the space between you.
With a gentle tilt of his head, Theo closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the pent-up emotions, all the longing, and all the unspoken words that had lingered between you.
As the kiss deepened, you melted into Theo's embrace, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair. His arms tightened around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let you go.
Lost in the sweetness of the moment, you felt as if the rest of the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. Every brush of Theo's lips against yours sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned with an intensity you had never known.
When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you found yourselves lost in each other's gaze once more, jumping at the sound of a voice clearing behind you, bringing you back out of your stupor.
Turning around, you found your mother standing in the doorway, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she observed the scene before her, the tension that had filled the room moments ago now replaced with an air of affection.
"I've been wondering when you two would finally make it official," she teased, her voice filled with amusement.
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but you couldn't help but smile at her playful tone. "Alright, let me do this right this time," you said, gesturing to the boy beside you. "Mom, this is Theo. My boyfriend."
Your mother's smirk widened into a knowing grin as she glanced between you and Theo. "Well, it's about time," she chuckled. With a final wink in your direction, she turned and retreated from the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone again.
You turned back to Theo, a sense of warmth spreading through your chest. "Well, was that better?" you joked, a hint of relief in your voice.
Theo chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his hands found your waist again. "Perfect.” With a playful grin, he pulled you into another sweet kiss.
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#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theodore nott imagine#theo nott#theodore nott x reader#theo nott imagine#theo nott x reader#theodore nott#teddy#teddy nott#theo#theodore#slytherin x reader#slytherin#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#imagine#writing#mari writes#love is embarrassing#harry potter fanfiction
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I put off reading TTOU until I had finished grading midterms, and only after I'd finished it noticed the "...who normally hate reading" part of the "black hole level gravity well for ADHD people..." I did lose a couple of hours here and there, though.
Anyway, I hit a different time issue as I reached the last updated chapter on March 2nd, checked to see when it had been posted, and was deep enough in that it initially startled me Unpleasantly to see that you had posted it March 3rd.
But before I could start developing Theories I remembered that you are Australian.
Anyway, WHAT THE FUCK.
*throws tarp over time machine* Yep. Just time zones. Australian.
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EDDIE X Bookworm/Romance Reader.
Warnings: F reader, loneliness and mentions of bullying. Use of Y/N.
~~~
You'd graduated far past shame at this point, so it was with a 'i don't actually care if you see' attitude that you'd packed a romance novel in your bag to read during lunch that morning. You were new and did not have many people to speak with at this stage and no one seemed particularly interested in changing that
It was almost cliche, that whenever you expressed an interest in anything someone within the school would find a way to make fun of it. You'd been humiliated when you'd said you like to read fantasy books in a class introduction in English.
You'd had your books knocked out of your arms for saying you didn't really enjoy a certain movie, and the same for saying you did enjoy another.
Highschool was just like that you supposed. So, rather than sit in the cafeteria you'd found a shady spot by a tree and curled up with your latest Judith McNaught novel and your lunch. You'd been so engrossed by the novel you'd not actually heard the bell ring, and by the time a teacher caught you, you were 15 minutes late. In your hurry, you left the damn book there.
--
It wasn't there when you got out of class. You swore up a storm as you stomped your way to lost property. While the office ladies were not sympathetic, they said they'd call your parents if it was found.
It took Two. Fucking. Weeks. But they called, and your book was back in your hands, after a slightly judgemental look from the office lady. You raced home, enthusiastic to keep reading. After showering and changing you lounged in the bed, opening the book to find it'd been defiled.
Someone had written in your book. You were angry, for a moment, and hesitantly started reading before you noticed it wasn't name calling, just messy annotations in the margins.
You quickly flipped back to the beginning, and sure enough there were notes in the margins the whole way through. Little chapter summaries on the first page of the next chapters.
The notes weren't. . . Approving necessarily but they weren't bullying. You closed the book and tried to identify how you felt about it. You were a little pissed that someone wrote in your book but from the little notes you'd read so far, it was like having a friend read with you. It felt exciting.
You started from the beginning, reading all the little annotations and laughing harder than you normally would at the book. You firmly disagreed with some of the points and took to marking those points in red so you could argue back with your anonymous reader.
You read all through dinner, and stayed up late to finish, spurred on my comments like "wow, what a coincidence" when the two leads met 'by accident' and "What does that even mean" to a flowery line description of the Hero.
The comments continued, though the steamy scenes ("Does gravity even work like that?", "There is NO way that feels good", "... Adding that to my bucket list" )
Through the drama ("JUST TALK TO EACHOTHER", "Please for the love of god just FUCK" and "Jesus. H. Christ)
And to the conclusion of the book, with the characters happily in love ( "FINALLY" "This would have been better with monsters" and "I can't believe she's pregnant!")
You finished the book at one in the morning, turning to the last page and seeing a phone number scrawled in the messy writing you'd come to enjoy.
"Call me" was written underneath.
You didn't even hesitate, scrambling down the stairs and dialling the number in the darkness of the kitchen. Anxiety hit you once the phone was ringing. It was late who would even-
"Hello?" A groggy voice answered and a rush of humiliation ran through you as you heard the deep voice. A guy then, you thought.
You wanted to say so much. You wanted to say that that was the best way you've read a book, or that you appreciated his thoughtfully designed annotations but instead you came out with "Is this the asshole that wrote In my book?" There was a beat of silence and then loud, boisterous laughter came down the phone. You could feel yourself blushing just at the sound and snapped, out of embarrassment "Was this some kind of joke!? It's not fucking funny"
The laughter stopped as suddenly as it started and the person on the other line said "No . . . What makes you think that?"
You huff "You're laughing at me"
You can hear the smile in the voice when they reply "Not at you."
You're clutching the phone tighter when you spit out "At what then!?". Through all the anxiety and humiliation fuelled anger you do notice the voice sounds friendly. You kind of ache a little at that, wanting a friend here so badly it knots your stomach.
The laughing voice comes back with "I wasn't expecting a call for fucking ages. It took me two weeks to read that book. What, did you skim it?"
Oh. That settles the anxiety in your stomach a little and you let out a viable breath, shrinking on yourself a little when you say back, quietly "No, I just read quick. I stayed up."
"I see, you're a bookworm then!" The voice sounds so fond somehow, so endearing that you burst into tears.
You try to muffle it, you do, but the intake of breath carries across the line and with a panicked "Shit, I'm sorry! What did I say?!"
You giggle at that, laughing through your tears as you take a steadying breath "No no, it wasn't you." Another sob leaves you "it's just- nice."
"Nice" the other person says, confused.
You hum in agreement, still crying but quieter now "no one's been this nice since I got here" you say, shyly.
An understanding noise comes through the line "ah" they say, suddenly shy as well.
You take a few steadying breaths before saying "Thank you"
"You're welcome" they say, the smile back in their voice "So...."
That makes you laugh again "So..." You repeat, in a slightly teasing matter
They laugh again. It's loud and happy. It make you smile and you're sure they can hear your quiet laughter through the phone.
"Do I get to know your name, little bookworm?" The voice is teasing. Deliberately light but you can tell there is a little flirting in there.
Oh. Your blush is back.
"Y/n" you say, quiet, "Do I get yours?"
"Eddie" they say and for the first time they sound nervous.
You're quiet for just a moment before you ask "The Eddie that makes scenes in the cafeteria?"
"Yeah...."
"Oh! You're in my math class." You say, excited, not mentioning that you'd never actually seem him attend said class, but glad you found a point of connection.
A relieved laugh comes through the line and it makes you smile as he said "Am I now?" You only him lowly in agreement before he asks "Do you have anymore books I can write in?" He asks, voice heavy with suggestion.
A huge grin breaks out on your face and you close your eyes "I've got a better idea" you tell him
"Oh? And whats that?" He asks, voice still flirty
You try and match his tone when you say "we could just read em together? My books can stay pen free"
He laughs again and you join in "Alright little bookworm, it's a deal. Mine or yours?"
"Mine. When?"
"Where do you live?" You tell him "I can be there in 10"
"It's a date" you say, breathless.
"See you soon, little bookworm" he says, the fondness that had made you cry back in his voice.
"See you soon, Eddie." You say.
It's not until you hang up the phone that you realise the time. It takes you all of ten minutes to plot a way to sneak your new friend into your room. Just as you're finished dumping water bottles, snacks and spare blankets in your room you see lights outside, via your window, and see a van pulling up.
He had arrived.
#eddie munson fic#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x female character
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A Vow of Blood - 65
Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.
Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….
Chapter 65: A Fool with a Fool's Honor
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Alerted by the distinctive sound of a cane tapping on stone and the shuffle of footsteps, Daenera’s senses heightened. She pressed herself deeper into the shadows, her heart pounding in her chest, her palms clammy. Despite the tense situation, she felt an overwhelming sense of coldness, as if no amount of warmth could penetrate her current state of shock and apprehension.
The doors creaked open, and Lord Larys Strong entered the room, leaning heavily on his cane. His voice was calm and soft-spoken, belying the gravity of the situation happening within the Red Keep.
“...Lord Caswell,” he finished his sentence.
“M’ lord,” another voice responded, followed by the distinct sounds of footsteps.
Concealed behind the curtains, Daenera peered through a narrow gap. She watched cautiously as Larys shut the door and moved across the room, the rhythmic tapping of his cane punctuating his every move. He settled into a chair, his back to her, and began to pour himself a cup of tea.
Seizing the moment, Daenera stepped out from her hiding place, her movements silent as she approached him. Her grip on the dagger’s hilt was firm, despite the sweat on her palm. Her heart raced as she positioned the blade against his neck, feeling him freeze under its cold touch.
“Where do your allegiances lie?” She demanded, slowly moving to where Larys could see her, all the while keeping the dagger pressed against his skin.
Surprise flickered across Larys’ face as his icy gaze took in her disheveled appearance and the dagger in her hand. “Princess…”
“Where do your allegiances lie?” Daenera repeated her question, her voice unwavering.
“Are you hurt?” Larys’ eyes scanned her, concern evident as they traveled from her bloodstained hand to her bodice.
Daenera glanced down at herself, noting for the first time the extent of the blood stains on her dress. The fabric of her dress, meant to mimic the modest attire of a servant, was starkly contrasted by the deep red stains that marred its surface. The spots, a grim reminder of the bloodshed she had witnessed, were particularly prominent on her skirts and bodice, where she had instinctively wiped her bloodied hands. She shook her head slightly, her voice wavering. “The blood isn’t mine.”
Daenera felt the acidic sting of bile threatening to rise in her stomach again, but she managed to suppress it. The last thing she needed was to lose her composure in front of Larys Strong, especially by vomiting on him.
Reflecting back on their past encounters, Daenera recalled Larys’ words in the Godswood and his counsel during the time she was advised to go to Storm's End. These memories brought a faint flicker of hope, despite her understanding that Larys was under no obligation to assist her now. Her voice was hoarse and strained as she spoke, the dryness of her lips making it difficult to articulate her words.
“You once told me to seek you out if I were ever in need of a friend,” she began, her thoughts momentarily drifting to the little girl she once was, who had lost her father and yearned for a connection to the man long gone. This man before her was her uncle, albeit only in blood and forever kept in secret. In her heart, she clung to the hope that this familial tie might still hold some meaning, some bond that could be called upon in her hour of need. “I am in need of a friend now.”
Larys regarded her with a measuring expression.
“So it appears,” he replied, gesturing stiffly towards the opposing chair. “Why don’t you take a seat, and we can discuss this matter.”
Daenera hesitated, her eyes betraying a hint of unease as she contemplated Larys’ invitation to sit. After a brief moment, she cautiously lowered herself into the seat, slowly withdrawing the dagger from his neck. Yet, she maintained a firm grip on the weapon, resting her hand on the table, letting the blade remain threateningly in the air.
Her gaze remained intently focused on Larys, observing his every move as he calmly poured her a cup of tea. The steam wafted up, carrying the distinct aroma of rooibos–a sweet, herbal scent that contrasted sharply with the scent of cobber that clung to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the gentle swirl of steam rise from the cup, her senses heightened and alert, ready to react to any sudden movement or sign of betrayal.
Larys observed Daenera with an air of composure, his gray eyes sharp and calculating. They held a cold, analytical quality, as if he were meticulously assessing every aspect of the situation unfolding before him, even as he presented her with a gentle, sympathetic smile.
“Viserys is dead,” Daenera declared, her voice raw with resignation.
“Indeed,” Larys acknowledged, his response laced with an undertone of intrigue, suggesting a deeper awareness of the events transpiring.
“And the Hightowers are seizing power,” she added, her voice sharpening with evident contempt for the unfolding power play.
“It certainly appears so,” Larys concurred, maintaining a tone that was deliberately vague, his face betraying little of his inner thoughts. His gaze remained fixed on her, observing her reactions closely, a vague sense of amusement to his eyes.
Daenera’s frustration became more pronounced as she echoed his words, her eyebrows knitting together in vexation. “Is that not what’s unfolding? Was that not the reason behind me being made a prisoner? Or the reason for your summoning to a secret council meeting in the dead of night?”
Tears threatened to spill from Daenera’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly to stave them off, her body shifting restlessly in the chair. Despite all her preparations for such a scenario, she realized she had always imagined it would occur in the clarity of daylight, with her fully awake and prepared. Instead, she had found herself grappling with these harrowing revelations in a state of exhaustion, jarred awake in the late hours of night.
“The council, where do they stand?” Daenera asked, her voice wivering with a mix of fear and urgency. Larys was the gatekeeper to the answers she desperately sought, and the uncertainty of the entire situation was eating away at her. She hated the feeling of being left in the unknown.
“It seems that the King had a change of heart regarding the succession in his final moments,” he said, delivering the news with a calculated calmness. Larys’ response was measured, yet it struck Daenera with the force of a physical slap. Her skin seemed to prickle with the sting of it.
Her expression darkened, a frown etching itself deeply across her face. The grip on her dagger tightening, her knuckles turning white under the strain as anger began to burn within her chest.
“He declared Aegon his rightful heir,” Larys added, the gravity of his words hanging heavily in the air.
Daenera grappled with the implausibility of Larys’s revelation. It simply did not align with everything she knew about her grandfather and his steadfast support of her mother.
She thought about how Viserys had reaffirmed her mother’s position as his heir, especially during the recent succession dispute over Driftmark. She recalled the effort it took for the ailing king to have navigated the Red Keep, the physical toll it took on him to climb the stairs to the Iron Throne to personally sit in judgment. Most tellingly, she remembered his decisive action in calling for Vaemond’s tongue to be removed, punishing him for his insult against her mother.
In every instance, King Viserys had demonstrated a clear, unwavering commitment to his decision regarding the succession. The idea that he would suddenly change his mind and name Aegon as his heir was inconceivable.
“Who told you this?” Daenera managed to ask, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“The Queen,” Larys answered succinctly, confirming the source of this pivotal information with a simple statement.
Daenera scoffed, her response laced with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Of course she would say that. She’s always wanted her son on the throne. But Viserys… he would never have chosen Aegon as his successor.”
Larys regarded her with a steady, solemn gaze, imparting the gravity of the situation. “The council, however, has accepted this claim. They now stand behind Aegon as the rightful king.”
Daenera closed her eyes briefly, a gesture of weariness and disbelief, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over her, her head throbbing. She reopened them, her expression one of incredulity.
“Lord Beesbury was a staunch supporter of Viserys and his decision to name my mother as heir. It is unthinkable that he would forsake his commitment based solely on Alicent’s assertion,” Daenera said.
A somber expression settled on Larys face, almost pitiful as he delivered the news. “I’m afraid Lord Beesbury is no longer with us.”
Her eyes widened in shock as she absorbed the implication of his words. “He’s dead? How? What happened?”
Larys hesitated slightly before responding, as if searching for the words. “He had a… minor accident.”
“No,” Daenera cut in, her voice rising with a blend of anger and realization. “They killed him, didn’t they? They’re prepared to silence anyone who stands in their way. Deep within, they recognize my mother is the legitimate heir.”
Daenera fixed Larys with a sharp look. “You were present at the council meeting, as Lord Confessor.”
“I was,” Larys confirmed with a nod. He took a calm sip of his tea, his casual demeanor almost jarring.
“And where do you stand in all of this?” Daenera pressed, her voice firm with both inquiry and accusation. Her grip on the dagger tightened again, her palms sweaty. “You didn’t challenge their claim.”
“As you rightly pointed out, they are prepared to silence dissenters,” he responded, setting the tea cup down with deliberate calmness. “The council’s decision was unanimous, except for Lord Beesbury, to honor the supposed final wishes of the King.”
Daenera felt a tremor in her heart, a mix of disappointment and realization. “So, you stand with them. You’re supporting their usurpation of my mother.”
“I had no choice but to comply,” Larys stated. “The decision had already been made before I could influence it.”
A heavy silence fell between them. Daenera’s eyes stayed locked on Larys, searching his expression for any clue, any hint of his true intentions. Was he an ally in this dire situation, or yet another enemy?
In the dimly lit room, where the hearth’s flames cast a flickering glow, the light caught the intricately embedded gemstones on Larys’ cane, making them sparkle like elusive fireflies. Daenera’s eyes momentarily lingered on the finely carved silver firefly that adorned the handle, stirring within her a sense of wariness and foreboding.
“House Strong has been esteemed for its unwavering loyalty to the crown,” Daenera began, her tone deliberate and measured. “If you maintain your allegiance to the true Queen, your loyalty will surely be acknowledged and rewarded.”
She carefully navigated her words, aware of the implications they carried. “Your brother and father were men of honor, and I believe you possess the same integrity.”
As she looked at Larys, Daenera saw little resemblance to the man she remembered, sharing nothing but the dark hue of his hair. In his demeanor and presence, she found scant traces of the heritage and characteristics that she associated with House Strong–associated with his brother Ser Harwin Strong.
She paused for a moment, weighing her next words. “I ask of you, as a friend, help me.”
Daenera leaned in, her movements purposeful as she placed the hastily written note on the table before Larys, pushing it across the surface before withdrawing her hand. “It’s imperative that I inform my mother about the Hightowers’ betrayal. You have the capability to dispatch a raven. It’s crucial that she’s informed about the current situation.”
Larys nodded in acknowledgement and picked up the note. He studied it briefly, his gray eyes scanning the words with a careful gaze. After reading it, he refolded the note with precision and tucked it securely into his belt.
Daenera continued, her voice laced with determination, “I’m certain of the Hightowers intent to use me as leverage against my mother. I must leave King’s Landing. Reaching Dragonstone discreetly isn’t feasible, but I could head for Harrenhal or Duskendale and seek sanctuary there until Daemon can come for me.”
Larys offered a cautionary note to her plans, “Traveling the Kingsroad alone is perilous, especially for a woman in your position.”
“Then arrange for me to leave by sea,” Daenera responded firmly.
Daenera was acutely aware that her continued presence in King’s Landing played into the Hightowers’ hands. It was imperative for her to escape and alert her family, especially her mother, about the unfolding betrayal.
What allies she had within the Red Keep were in the same position she was in. The only person who appeared able to help her was Lord Larys Strong. He was her best chance of getting out.
“I understand the gravity of what I’m requesting, my lord,” Daenera began, her voice carrying a careful mix of resolve and humility. “To send ravens is one thing, but aiding my disappearance is quite another. Yet, you are the only person I can turn to. I have allies within the city who could assist me beyond the city gates if you cannot.”
She swallowed, before continuing. “Help me, I beg of you.”
An uneasy light flickered in Larys’ eyes, carrying a hint of something unsettling. Daenera couldn’t shake the feeling that he was deriving a perverse sense of satisfaction from the position she was in–having to beg for his help.
“I place my trust in you, my lord,” Daenera said, hoping that he would prove himself worthy of that trust. “Should you assist me in this matter, I will remain indebted to you.”
A subtle smile emerged on Larys’ face as he rose from his chair, his hand gripping the head of his cane a bit more firmly. “Allow me a moment to make the necessary arrangements, and I will secure your escape.”
Daenera watched him with a mixture of hope and trepidation.
Left alone in the room, Daenera felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. She felt the weight of each passing minute as she anticipated his return. The dagger was sheathed again at her waist, her fingers peeling off the hilt. She cautiously tasted the tea he had left for her, ensuring it wasn’t poisoned. Finding it safe, she drank deeply, soothing her dry throat.
Drawn to the windows, Daenera observed the early morning light breaking into day. The sky was painted in shades of crimson, eerily echoing the bloodshed of the night, as if the heavens mourned the fallen–a bled for them.
Daenera’s fingers danced nervously on the hilt of her dagger, echoing the anxious beat of her heart. Doubts clouded her mind about seeking Larys’s aid, yet her options were distressingly limited. The allies she might have counted on within the Red Keep – Lord Caswell and his daughter, Tris, Lady Fell, and Kaylys Beesbury – were essentially captives in their own right, likely confined to their chambers and unable to offer any assistance. And Ser Finan, her trusted confidant within the City Watch, was either patrolling the city’s labyrinthine streets, or inaccessible somewhere within the Red Keep’s walls, far beyond her reach. The thought of combing through the Keep to find him seemed a venture doomed to futility–a venture that would get her caught.
With a tight swallow, Daenera’s gaze swept over the horizon, contemplating if a solitary escape through the tunnels would have been preferable, despite the risk of getting lost and the even greater risk of encountering guards stationed at every exit. If she succeeded in escaping the Red Keep, the challenge of fleeing the city loomed large before her. She would have to leave the city before the Hightower’s discovered her absence and ordered the city’s gates sealed and its harbor closely watched. Mysaria might offer sanctuary and aid in her escape, but even then, Daenera would find herself pursued relentlessly–like the young fox leaping through the forest as the hunters chased after it.
Larys represented her most viable escape route. His past assistance and warnings against the Queen, coupled with his advice to leave King’s Landing and bring her husband to Storm’s End, lingered in her memory. It could have been a trap, but it wasn’t.
Her heart continued its restless thumping, a sense of ominous foreboding weighing heavily within her. The uncertainty of her choice twisted her stomach into knots as time inexorably marched forward, each moment amplifying her unease.
Daenera’s reliance on Larys was not grounded in definitive trust but rather in hope, a fragile and capricious ally in uncertain times.
Upon his return, Larys presented her with a new cloak. It was a welcome sight, free from the grim reminders of violence. She removed her own cloak and draped the new one over her shoulders, noting its generous length that trailed behind her as she moved. The cloak carried a scent of smoke and an intangible warmth, offering a small comfort amidst the chaos.
“Is everything arranged?” Daenera asked, her gaze intently fixed on Larys.
“Yes,” Larys responded succinctly, his steps hastening towards the door, his cane echoing rhythmically against the stone floor. “I’ve arranged for a transport to Harrenhal where you will be safe. I will lead you to the exit where my man is waiting for you. He will escort you on your way.”
Daenera gave a terse nod, feeling a surge of apprehension within her.
Pulling the hood of the cloak over her head to conceal her identity, she followed Larys into the eerily silent corridors of the Red Keep. Her gaze remained lowered, vigilantly following Larys while maintaining a cautious distance. Her hands clutched the cloak’s edges tightly, using the garment as a shield to cover the grim display of her dress.
She was acutely aware of every sound, listening for the slightest hint of movement or the approach of footsteps, which were almost drowned out by the loud thumping of her own heart as it beat rapidly within her chest.
As they moved through the normally bustling halls of the Red Keep, the absence of activity was once again unsettling. The corridors remained desolate, the morning light spilling in through the windows, as they turned down another hall and further into the depths of the Keep.
Daenera closely followed Larys as he guided her through a rarely frequented wing of the Red Keep. This section, typically only used during grand celebrations and tournaments, lay just as deserted as the rest of the Keep.
Larys stopped in his tracks, holding up a hand for her to be quiet. He stopped so unexpectedly that Daenera nearly bumped into him.
In the quiet, she could hear the distant but distinct sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. A surge of fear rushed through her, her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she tried to steady her breath.
Seeming to recognize the imminent danger, Larys acted swiftly. He moved to one of the chamber doors and opened it with haste, gesturing urgently for Daenera to enter.
Daenera quickly entered the dim chamber, where the absence of windows left the room shrouded in shadows and the air thick with a stale, musty scent. The space, haunting in its stillness, was filled with furniture draped in white sheets to ward off dust, creating an eerie semblance of silent watchers. Her gaze was drawn to the small hearth where newly lit fire flickered, its flames seeming to mock her.
The sight struck her as odd. Why would there be a fire in an unused room?
A chilling wave of unease washed over her as she pieced together the truth. Her throat tightened, and she spun around to confront Larys, her eyes wide with a sense of betrayal.
Larys stood in the doorway, exuding a calm, collected demeanor as he delivered his words, his tone devoid of genuine remorse. “I am sorry, Princess.”
A heavy feeling of dread descended upon Daenera, the gravity of her situation becoming painfully clear. The air seemed to escape her lungs as she faced the grim reality.
“I couldn’t allow you to leave,” Larys stated, his voice resonating with a chilling finality. His declaration was underscored by the entrance of two guards who took their positions on either side of the door, effectively sealing her fate.
Daenera felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and she swallowed thickly as she stared at him in outrage. The harsh truth of Larys’ loyalty became undeniably evident.
“Why?” Daenera demanded, her voice thick as she tried to contain her emotions. “I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend,” Larys insisted, his tone unwavering. “However, I serve the Queen. I am familiar with her ways, and I know she will reward me for my loyalty.”
Daenera’s response was a sneer, “My mother would have shown you gratitude.”
“Regrettably, your mother offers nothing I desire,” Larys replied coldly, his gaze briefly shifting to one of the guards, signaling him to advance.
As one guard firmly grasped Daenera’s arm, the other began a systematic search. Her cloak was removed, exposing the bloodstained fabric of her dress and revealing the dagger fastened at her waist. Daenera clenched her jaw in frustration and helplessness as her only means of defense and her pouch containing valuables were removed.
While they searched her, Daenera observed the guards’ attire – worn leather and cloaks of blue, distinct from the Kingsguard, the City Watch, or the Red Keep’s own guards. She surmised they were Larys’ men, a suspicion confirmed by the small firefly pins adorning their chests.
Her breath hitched as she felt the laces of her dress being undone. She turned to Larys, who watched impassively as she was stripped down to her underdress. The servant’s dress pooled cruelly at her feet, a puddle of crimson fabric. The coin that had been hidden within her bodice clinked loudly as it hit the floor.
Daenera wrapped her arms around herself, seeking to preserve some semblance of dignity.
There, clothed only in the sheer fabric of her underdress, Daenera was painfully aware of her defenselessness. The penetrating gazes upon her evoked a surge of deep humiliation, constricting her chest and sending shivers across her skin. Goosebumps dotted her flesh as the room’s chill cut through the slender fabric of her garment. It strangely reminded her of the night her husband had ripped her dress from her body–the fire crackled nearby, causing her to jump, its heat barely reaching her, doing little to chase away the icy dread that had settled deep within her bones.
The guard gathered her clothes and presented the coin to Larys. He examined it with a hint of curiosity before his gaze returned to Daenera. She looked back at him pointedly, lips pressed in a firm line.
She watched as Larys tapped his way towards the hearth with his cane. Holding the note she had written earlier, he locked eyes with her, a silent message in his gaze, before he callously fed the parchment to the flames, destroying her last hope of warning her mother.
“You have no honor.” Daenera’s anger flared as she faced Larys fully, her words seething through clenched teeth. “Your father and brother would be ashamed of what you’ve become. A traitor to the realm.”
“I do not concern myself with ghosts,” Larys dismissed her words with the wave of his hand. “And they should not concern you either.”
Her glare intensified as Larys stepped closer, resting both hands on the head of his cane, her coin hidden within one of his palms. Her spine straightened, refusing to cower before him.
“The dead are gone, Princess. And with them, they take their honor.”
Daenera ground her teeth, felt a surge of rage pulse through her, her fingers itching with the desire to grab Larys’ cane and pummel him to death with it.
Larys continued, a hint of disdain finding its way into his voice. “I loved my brother, but he was a fool to think no one would question his devotion to Princess Rhaenyra. A fool with a fool's honor. And my father, while well-meaning, lacked ambition to elevate and assert our House.”
Daenera glared at Larys. “Ser Harwin was a good man. He was honorable and loyal.”
For an instant, Daenera’s mind conjured the haunting image of Ser Harwin’s lifeless body, suspended by a noose, his face gruesomely disfigured by burns, making him almost unrecognizable, and around him, fireflies glowed eerily.
A dark thought flickered through her mind – would Larys’ face be similarly disfigured if she were to thrust him into the flames?
Larys’ voice, devoid of any emotion, broke through her thoughts. “He was a good man, indeed. Good and foolish and dead.”
As Larys gave a subtle nod, the guards obediently filed out the room, their departure closely followed by Larys himself. The tapping of his cane echoed through the room, each click resonating like a shard of ice piercing Daenera’s back.
Shivering with cold in the vast, empty chamber, she was surprised not to see her breath hanging in the frigid air. A bitter taste lingered in her mouth, and the heavy, suffocating staleness of the air clawed at the back of her throat.
“Do not mistake my actions for a lack of concern, Princess,” Larys spoke with a cold, measured tone, his voice serving as a stark reminder of his detachment from his brother’s warmth. “I did care for my brother, and in the same vein, I believe it’s necessary to shield you from your own foolishness.”
Daenera’s response was a mixture of scorn and incredulity. “You call this protection?”
“The Hightowers will not harm you, you’re far too valuable for that,” Larys said as though it offered some sort of comfort. “If war breaks out, this is the safest place for you to be. Take solace in knowing that here, at least, you’re out of harm's way.”
His hollow assurance left her feeling more isolated than ever.
“Let me keep the coin,” Daenera demanded, her voice betraying her as it waned into a desperate thing. “Please.”
Larys briefly considered the coin, seeming to weigh the option of taking it, then nonchalantly flicked it towards her, letting it clatter to the floor near her feet.
As the door closed with a definitive click and the sound of the lock sealing her fate, Daenera felt her strength wane. Her legs gave way, and she found herself collapsing to her knees before the hearth.
Daenera stared at her hands, where the blood had transformed into a dark, crackled brown, stubbornly lodged beneath her nails and smeared over her skin. Stains the same somber hue had seeped through her underdress, marking her knees with the haunting reminder–Joyce was gone. Dead.
The coppery tang of blood filled her nostrils, the smell making her stomach turn. Once again she felt the rise of bile, but there was nothing left in her stomach to spill and she swallowed thickly against the feel of it.
Shivers rippled through Daenera’s frame, her entire being shaking as tears spilled freely from her eyes, dripping onto her quivering hands and the cold stone beneath her. A choked sob broke from her lips, followed by another and another until there was no stopping it.
A weak, almost inaudible noise escaped her throat, a sound of grief as reality came crashing in around her. Her mind raced with thoughts–how many more dead? Was Fenrick still alive? What of Patrick and Jelissa?
The chill from the stone floor beneath her seemed to pierce her very bones, amplifying the numbing coldness of her situation. By the time she left this room, would her family be dead? The uncertainty of their fates added a deeper layer of dread to her sorrow.
She found herself trapped and utterly alone.
Daenera wrapped herself in the cloak that had been left to her, and stained the fabric with her tears.
Aemond found Ser Criston Cole at the foot of the imposing, grand staircase of Maegor’s Holdfast. The newly appointed Commander of the Kingsguard was dressed uncharacteristically in civilian clothes, a stark departure from his usual armor. His normally gleaming, intricately designed plate was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by a plain tunic of unremarkable brown. The famous white cloak of the Kingsguard was substituted for a nondescript brown one, and atop his head sat a simple hat, the sort one might expect to see on an ordinary townsman.
Without the grandeur of the Kingsguard attire, Ser Criston Cole looked like the stewards son he was born as.
In sharp contrast to Ser Criston’s humble garb, Aemond presented himself in a black training doublet that had seen many days of use. The fabric was coarse and tough, designed to withstand the rigors of combat, held together with straps of worn leather. A cloak, long enough to reach his ankles, was fastened at his throat with a chain of simple iron. The belt around his waist, though utilitarian, cradled a sword and a dagger, both of which were of exquisite craftsmanship, their luxurious details a silent testament to his status.
Upon descending the last step, Aemond was met with a curt nod from Ser Criston. The greeting, though brief, carried the weight of formality and respect due a prince.
Aemond’s attention was captured by a grim but expected scene on the ground–a dried, dark brownish stain of blood, an implication of the violence that had occurred and had not yet been erased. Close by, another stain disrupted the stone’s integrity, its smear suggesting a violent draggin, leaving behind a woeful trail.
He spared no questions for the sight; the recent events were clear in his mind. Ser Criston and the Red Keep guards had apprehended Daenera amidst her bid for freedom, a confrontation that undoubtedly did not end without resistance. Ser Criston’s earlier discussions with his mother had confirmed Daenera’s current confinement within her chambers.
He would have guarded her himself, did his mother not need him.
Following Ser Criston, Aemond stepped into the sunlit inner courtyard of Maegor’s Holdfast. His eye briefly met those of the Lord Confessor, deep in conversation with his men, who were similarly dressed in the muted garb of discretion, their expressions rigid with purpose.
As they moved past this assembly, Lord Lary’s voice reached out, distinct and authoritative. “Lord Commander…”
Ser Criston came to a halt and turned to face Lord Larys, whose approach was underlined by the distinctive sound of his cane tapping against the stone. Larys’s demeanor was one of calculated composure, his expression carrying that all-too-familiar hint of cunning that seemed to be a permanent fixture of his face.
“It’s been quite a chaotic morning,” he observed, his fingers nonchalantly wrapped around his cane’s handle, his keen eyes reflecting a penetrating intelligence. “It appears the Princess resisted capture, evidenced by the bloodshed. Yet, it seems you failed to detain her.”
Ser Criston, with a demeanor as stoic as tone, replied, “The Princess’s guards were rather… resistant to disarming and following quietly–”
“My remarks were not about the guards,” Larys clarified, his attention shifting between Ser Criston and Aemond. “It seems the Princess has managed to slip past her guards and out of her confinements. As we speak, she’s in my quarters, eagerly awaiting a chance to flee the Keep.”
Aemond maintained a composed facade, yet beneath it, apprehension surged at the notion of Daenera’s flight. He clenched his jaw, attempting to conceal his disquiet. The prospect of both Aegon lost within the city’s expanse and Daenera slipping away to alert her mother, all before they could put the crown of Aegon’s head, was a complication they could ill afford.
Ser Criston, with a furrowed brow and a defensive edge to his voice, asserted, “I personally oversaw her confinement and stationed guards outside her chambers. She couldn’t have escaped.”
Aemond’s thoughts raced, filled with an understanding that those around him lacked. He knew Daenera. He knew she was cunning, resourceful, and above all, spiteful. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that she made another attempt at escape–nevertheless, it aggravated him.
He exhaled sharply in frustration, his attention momentarily diverted by a commotion. From the corner of his eye, he saw the two guards on the second level of the cloister, manhandling a bulky item before unceremoniously letting it fall to the floor. The object hit the ground with a solid thump. Then, they set about fastening a rope around the bannister, trading sharp quips as they quarreled over the correct method to tie the knot and determine the length of the rope.
“The castle’s walls offer more secrets for escape than merely the front doors,” Larys answered, bringing Aemond’s attention back to him.
The sudden awareness of the hidden passages struck Aemond with an intensity akin to a blot of lightning. Amidst the chaos of the day, this critical detail had eluded him, a lapse that now festered within him as annoyance for not considering it earlier. It was a glaring mistake; he ought to have ensured there were no avenues for escape, that she remained protected–safe within her chambers.
“Is she safe–secured?” Aemond asked, his voice steady, not betraying the underlying worry that wretched through him.
“She remains unharmed,” Larys responded, a hint of self-satisfaction tinging his smirk, which only served to aggravate Aemond further. “And she will be secured.”
“You left her alone, you did not think to call the guards?” Ser Criston asked sharply.
“I intend to relocate her to a more secure chamber myself, one without the means to escape,” Larys answered, unconcerned in the slightest of having left her alone. “Furthermore, I’ll ensure any weapons are removed, as well as her bloodstained attire.”
Aemond turned a sharp look towards Ser Criston Cole, his irritation brewing into a potent mix of concern and ire. “Did she suffer any harm during this ordeal?”
“The blood isn’t hers,” Ser Criston stated, his words slicing through Aemond’s rising alarm, providing a momentary solace in the storm of his frustration.
Aemond’s attention shifted back to Larys as he methodically began to divest himself of his cloak. With careful movements, he peeled the heavy, textured fabric from his shoulders, offering it to Larys. “She must be kept safe and unharmed. We cannot afford to lose her.”
“Understood, my Prince. Her safekeeping is paramount,” Larys responded, his expression unmoved, his hands remaining on the head of his cane, showing no intention to take the cloak. Aemond, however, remained firm, keeping the cloak extended towards Larys with a determined glare.
With a hint of reluctance, Larys finally took it, folding it over his arm with a nod of acknowledgement.
“It’s time we moved on,” Ser Criston interjected, his expression etched with concern.
As Aemond and Ser Criston Cole made their way out of the towering shadow of Maegor’s Holdfast, walking towards the expansive outer yard, Aemond felt a sense of agitation linger beneath his skin.
“What transpired when you apprehended Daenera?” Aemond asked, his tone measured, betraying none of the tumultuous emotions that churned beneath his stoic exterior. The prince felt the weight of Ser Criston’s gaze, sharp and discerning, as it swept over him, probing the layers of his seemingly indifferent inquiry for hidden depths.
Ser Criston, with a visible strain of frustration creasing his brow, recounted the events that followed the council’s gathering. “When the council adjourned, I dispatched the twins to secure the gates and ensure the stables were under our control. Simultaneously, orders were given to confine Princesses Rhaenys and Daenera within their chambers.”
His voice was tinged with wariness as he continued. “It appears the Princess was forewarned of the King’s condition, for the guards encountered resistance in the corridor. Her escorts were subdued and brought to the dungeons, yet Princess Daenera managed to evade their capture. When I found her near the grand staircase, I implored her to return to her chambers willingly. However, she chose resistance over compliance.”
In Ser Criston’s account, Aemond detected the subtle notes of vexation at Daenera’s defiance.
Aemond absorbed the details with a nod, his mind weaving through the implications of Ser Criston’s words, and his query about the aftermath took on a sharper edge, his irritation simmering just below the surface, “And what of the bloodshed?”
Ser Criston’s response was stark, devoid of any attempt to soften the blunt reality of his actions, though it held a certain amount of deflection, “I was forced to kill one of her guards–the elder handmaiden was given a chance to step aside, but she drew a weapon. Had she not resisted, I would not have taken her life. Their deaths were a direct consequence of the Princess’s resistance. Had she heeded my command, this unfortunate outcome could have been averted. Their death’s lie with her.”
As they approached the formidable gates of the Red Keep, Aemond paused, allowing the gravity of their conversation to settle just as the guards labored to open the massive doors, their hinges groaning under the weight. Aemond faced Ser Criston squarely, the morning light casting long shadows behind them. “You should have sent for me.”
Ser Criston’s rebuttal was immediate, his expression darkening with exasperation, “And why should I have done that? The situation was under control.”
“Evidently not, given you killed the elderly handmaiden,” Aemond responded shortly, his voice laced with both a conviction born of frustration and a keen sense of what might have been. “Had I been apprised, I could have ensured her secure detention–a measure from which she could not have found escape.”
He would have escorted her to his chambers, taking it upon himself to ensure her safety. There, he would have kept a close watch over her. Aemond was under no delusion about her reaction; fury would have been her immediate response. She would have unleashed her anger in a torrent of accusations, her threats echoing off the walls. Her frustration would have made her cruel, her words would have become a blade aimed to slip beneath his armor and breach his defenses–and they would have been venomous, meant to poison him. And he, in turn, would have endured it, knowing the necessity of it all.
Ser Criston stood his ground, his voice firm, yet tinged with defensiveness. “I escorted her back to her chambers myself and stationed guards at her door. If I had been aware of alternate exits, those too would have been secured.”
His stance was clear; he refused to shoulder the blame alone for the oversight.
Leaving the confines of Maegor’s Holdfast, they proceeded towards the castle gates. Impatience overtaking him, Aemond reclaimed a cloak from a nearby guard and swiftly wrapped himself in it, pulling the hood forward to shield his distinctively Targaryen hair.
As they embarked on their mission through the city to find his brother, Aemond forced his concerns for Daenera to the back of his mind, concentrating solely on the immediate challenge before them.
#aemond targaryen#a vow of blood#house of the dragon#aemond fanfiction#hotd aemond#hotd#aemond x reader#aemond smut#aemond x oc
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Mezzo - Ch 2 - Soldier
Pairing: mshenko | Rating: M
Tags: Canon-typical violence, trauma, dealing with your problems poorly, body autonomy struggles
Summary: The twists and turns of ME2, through the eyes of everyone but Commander Shepard.
Chapter Summary: Welcome back to your life.
Thank you to @sinvraal for betaing!
Chapter 2: Soldier | Read on Ao3
October 2185, Horse Head Nebula, Fortuna System, Lazarus Station
In the shadows, his eyes glow red.
It’s only for a moment as Shepard strides through the doorway, the eyeblink before he steps into the hazy emergency lighting of Section B-12 of Lazarus Station, pistol raised, like an angel of death rising up from hell. By the time he opens fire it’s gone, his eyes the same blue they’ve been in every photo and every vid Jacob Taylor has ever seen. By the time the first mech sparks, shudders, and drops, Shepard is as flesh and blood as the Hero of the Citadel could possibly be.
The dead man back from the grave doesn’t give Jacob a second glance as he takes on three more mechs, wearing nothing more than a battered hospital gown, a few smears of soot and a line of blood dripping from his elbow.
I’m seeing it with my own eyes and I still don’t believe it.
Jacob shifts his weight against the thin metal railing spanning the walkway from B-12 to B-13, the only cover between him and the mechs. Apparently, blowing all their cash on a corpse didn’t leave Cerberus with enough funds for bulletproof infrastructure. As the slab of medigel covering the hole punched in Jacob’s thigh can attest to.
The mechs can’t tell the difference between a science project and a soldier, and all three of them take aim at the newest threat. Shepard hisses as he fires the pistol and gets nothing but the bleat of a spent heat sink in return. He swears under his breath, scrambling to find cover behind a bench, drawing his knees close to his chest as a mech politely declares him a security threat and sprays another burst of submachine gun fire. A line of sweat smudges the soot on his face, and he’s breathing about as hard as he was the day Wilson pulled the trigger too soon and nearly sank the whole project right at the finish line.
“Here,” Jacob calls out, pulling out a spare thermal clip.
The barrel of Shepard’s pistol takes aim at Jacob’s heart faster than he can blink.
He holds up one hand in surrender, the thermal clip in the other, before tossing it. The gravity well wavers weakly as Shepard leans to catch it. His hands shake enough that he fumbles it, then fumbles the pistol before he finds the sink eject.
Shepard shouldn’t even be mobile. Despite being a living, breathing human being for two months now, with brain healthy activity and everything, Miranda had put a moratorium on any further attempts to wake him up. Nothing like trial by fire.
Again the gravity well flickers like a weakening pulse. Shepard inhales deep, a small sound sticking in his throat that sounds like a dog getting kicked, before rising back to his feet and squeezing the trigger. Death didn’t fuck with his aim.
If the dead man can put down a mech, so can I. Jacob tells the bullet in his thigh to shut the fuck up for a minute as he leverages himself up high enough to shoot.
The last mech goes down with a squawk and pop.
“Shepard,” Jacob says, but Shepard is already on him, hauling him to his feet and pinning him to a bulkhead, arm against his throat, pistol pressed against his gut. Red gleams through the unhealed scarring on his face. There had been another skin graft scheduled for tomorrow.
Not quite perfection up close, huh?
Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Mezzo Playlist
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Here we go! I finished the cover the same day I finished the rough draft of the fic, and now I edited the next chapter and posted it!
You can read the whole thing on AO3!
But I will also include the next chapter under the cut here in case you don't want to use AO3 (though I don't have the energy to find the previous chapters on here, there are links to the tumblr posts on AO3 though!)
Chapter 8 - Old Food and Old Friends
Tensions rise as Ford realizes he may need help in fixing the time machine.
Darkness. It was everywhere, sticking to everything. Ford could feel it, clinging to him, trying to suffocate him, to pull him under. And it was succeeding. Laughter echoed around him, laughter that he had heard for weeks on end, mocking him for his stupidity.
“Just leave me alone for one minute!” He screamed, knowing it wouldn’t do anything, but unable to face the suffocating darkness anymore.
“Fine. I can make it on my own! I don't need you! I don't need anyone!”
The darkness vanished in the blink of an eye, replaced by the light of a lamp, sitting on a desk that Ford hadn’t seen in ages. Tires screeched outside of the closed curtains. Curtains he had closed only a few moments ago, or at least – that’s what his mind told him. In reality, it had been years ago, but dreams had a way of making everything seem real again.
Glancing down at the pamphlet in his hands, Ford let out a sigh, desperately wanting to throw it in the corner of the room for all the good it did him. That dream was gone, ruined by a brother who couldn’t let go of a childish fantasy that hadn’t been a possibility for ages.
Ruining lives, that’s what Stan did.
The thought came out of nowhere. It was almost in line with his own feelings, his own thoughts and emotions. But something about it wasn’t quite right.
Stan only cares about his own dreams; he never wanted you to succeed.
Anger rushed through Ford at the thought, but he couldn’t figure out if he was mad at himself for thinking it, or at Stan or…at something else. That unsettling feeling. He knew it, but his brain seemed to be failing him, as if something was stopping him from identifying it.
You can’t trust Stan. You can’t trust anyone.
Fiddleford leaving, townsfolk starring at him. Something about their eyes sent a chill down his spine.
You are the only one you can rely on, everyone else will fail you.
Right…that’s what he had learned. If he ever wanted to succeed, he could only trust himself. He had to do it himself, had to fix it. No matter how hard it was, not matter how lonely…
That’s right. Besides, you don’t need anyone. You are strong enough on your own.
“You are going to change the world one day.”
Pa was looking at him. It was the last time Ford had ever seen him, at some celebration that must not have been very important because every inch of the background was blurry.
“I…”
“You’ll make me proud. You’ll be someone. You’ll change the world.”
A shiver ran down Ford’s back. He didn’t know why, but something felt…wrong.
Then it was gone and Pa nodded and walked away.
One blink, and he was back in reality, staring at the ceiling of his cabin in Gravity Falls. He was shivering, and his head was throbbing, he didn’t feel sick, just…off.
Coffee, that’s what he needed. Caffeine always helped clear his head. Did he have any coffee left? Only one way to find out.
Sit up, swing his legs over the edge of the bed. That’s what he told himself to do, but his limbs didn’t respond, not because of exhaustion, but because something was keeping him there.
Panic overcame him and he started pulling, trying to yank his hands free. His muddled brain was still half in the dream, still feeling like something was there, just out of sight.
Bill.
The thought washed over him and his brain slowly recalled the last time he had been conscious, and the agreement he had come to with Stan. Tie him up. Right. But now he was stuck, and despite rationalizing that he must not have done anything since he was still tied up, the anxiety that had sparked a moment ago grew at the inability to move.
Turning his head as much as he could, another flash of anxiety hit him when he didn’t see Stan anywhere?
“Stanley?”
No response.
Oh gosh, what if Bill had taken over…what if…
“Stanley?!?”
“Huh, what?”
A second later, Stan was stumbling to his feet, looking around quickly, as if ready for a fight.
“Were…were you sleeping???” Ford stared at Stan with his uncovered eye, his worry being replaced by annoyance. After everything Ford had said, Stan had slept?
“Uh, just closed my eyes for a bit that’s all,” Stand said, his shoulders relaxing a little as he looked at Ford, but he almost immediately looked away again.
“You were supposed to be keeping an eye out on things!” Ford couldn’t help the outburst. He had trusted Stan and what did he go and do? Sleep.
“I was! And nothing happened, okay?”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. You haven’t moved an inch.” Anger flashed in Stan’s eyes for a moment, but almost immediately fizzled out. “Now if you don’t mind me, I’m going to go check on the kids even though nothing happened to them because you didn’t move.”
“Wait.”
“What? I told you-”
“I’m still tied up…” Ford said, trying to move his hand as if to prove that he was stuck and needed some help if he wanted to do anything.
“Oh…right.”
It only took a few minutes - minutes of complete silence aside from Stan mumbling under his breath as he struggled with one of the knots - but soon, Ford was able to move freely again.
Rubbing his wrists, which were slightly scuffed up from the ropes, he let out a breath, knowing he should thank Stan, but when he looked up, his brother had already left. Okay then…guess no thank you was needed. Or Stan just really didn’t want to be around Ford.
The back of Ford’s neck prickled as his dream came back to him. It was Bill, that was the only explanation. He was messing with him. But glancing at the ropes, he felt doubt creeping into his mind. Stan had come, he had tied Ford up, but he also didn’t seem to grasp the severity of the situation. Of Bill and his plans. Not that Ford had been able to explain too much but deep down, he couldn’t help but wonder…could he really trust his brother?
------
Stan shut the door, not fazed by the loud banging it created. Who cared if Ford got mad? Stan hadn’t done anything wrong; nothing had happened. But the words that his brother – or really the creature controlling him – had spoken rang in his mind. Why had Ford sent him the post card?
Shaking his head, Stan pushed the thought away. Considering Ford’s reaction upon waking, he didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk to Stan. And Stan wasn’t in the mood to talk to him either. He’d rather talk to his other family members. Which, to be honest, he was still trying to wrap his head around, but it did make some sense seeing as Mabel had been so keen to stay with him and trust him so quickly.
As he walked into the living room, he saw the kids. They were talking quietly and Stan ignored the memories that popped into his mind of him and Ford as kids. They had shared everything with each other back then, back when they trusted each other. But not anymore. Those kids were long gone.
“Stan!”
Mabel grinned at him and Stan couldn’t hold back a smile. “Hey, kiddo.” He glanced at Dipper - the brother that she had tried so hard to find again - and ignored the pang of hurt that came with knowing Ford had never searched for him like Mabel had for her brother.
“How’s Ford?” Dipper asked.
“I’m fine.”
Stan opened his mouth, only to be cut off when his brother walked into the room. Despite not wanting to, Stan found himself glancing at him, but Ford didn’t return the gaze, he just walked to the table where they had left the time machine, plopping down some tools before fiddling around with it. He still looked tired, but at least he wasn’t a second away from collapsing anymore.
Letting out a breath, Stan caught sight of Mabel looking at him questioningly, but he just smiled. “How’d you sleep, kiddo?”
Mabel glanced at Dipper, who was watching Ford cautiously. “Good.”
“Glad to have your brother back, huh?”
“Yeah…how are you and Ford-” She started, but Stan cut her off before she could finish her question.
“Hey, you know what, I’m kind of hungry. Want to help me rummage up some food?” Stan grinned and started heading out of the room.
A moment later, Mabel was next to him, grabbing his hand to lead him despite him knowing where the kitchen was - though he supposed she didn't know he had been there last night. “It’s this way, but there isn’t much food. Me and Dipper could only find some crackers last night.”
“I’m sure we can find something.” Stan said, hoping it was true. At this point, he was starving - the handful of crackers he ate last night had barely been a snack, let alone a filling meal. And while sleep had helped a little with his exhaustion, he knew food would help even more.
They rummaged around in the kitchen for a while, but Mabel was right, there wasn’t any food left, at least not anything edible. Why didn’t Ford have any food? Sure, he definitely wasn’t in his right mind, but it was still concerning.
“Ew.” Mabel made a face as she sniffed a pack of cheese in the fridge.
Stan chuckled, more to cover over his unease than out of amusement. “Yeah…I’m thinking a trip to the store is in order.”
“What about the snow?”
Frowning, Stan walked to the window. Snow was covering most of the sill, but he could see outside. “I think it’s calmed down some. It should be safe enough to drive.”
“Maybe we can all go to the store! A family outing!”
This time, the laugh that escaped Stan’s mouth was genuine. Mabel sure had a way of bringing excitement and joy to any situation, even one as…confusing as theirs. And Stan was grateful for it. “Yeah, maybe so.”
------
Dipper was vaguely aware of Mabel and Stan leaving the room, but he didn’t follow. Sure, Ford said he was fine and he did seem a little more coherent than before but after the encounter with Bill…
Shaking his head, Dipper focused on what Ford was doing. He was using some small tools to try to fit the time machine back together. If anyone could fix it, the author could…well, at least if he was at the top of his game.
“Ford?”
For a moment, Dipper thought he hadn’t heard him, but then Ford sighed, though he didn’t look away from his project. “Yes?”
“You look uh…”
Ford glanced at him for a second, and Dipper suddenly felt embarrassed, but he was curious about what had happened last night.
“It looks like you slept, but you told me that when you did, Bill would…”
Waving with his hand, Ford focused back on the measuring tape. “He didn’t. Stan tied me up, so Bill didn’t do anything.” For a moment, Ford’s eyes narrowed and he muttered under his breath, but Dipper still heard it. “At least I don’t think he did.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” Dipper scooted slightly away from Ford and unfortunately Ford looked up right as he did. For a split second, Dipper saw guilt cross his face, but then it vanished.
“Apparently Stan fell asleep at some point too.” Ford’s gaze hardened as he returned focus on his work before muttering to himself again. “But I suppose if something had happened, I wouldn’t have still been tied up when I awoke.”
Dipper frowned. Ford and Stan’s relationship seemed…strained, to say the least. And sure, Stan from the future wasn’t always the most trustworthy guy, but…he didn’t seem too bad. And this 80s Stan seemed fine too. So why was Ford so cold towards him? Sure, he had been brash with Dipper at first but Stan was his brother, not only that but his twin.
“Ford?”
Ford didn’t look up from his work. “I need to focus, if I want to fix this.” His voice had an edge to it, which immediately set off Dipper’s anxiety.
“Oh…right…” Dipper fiddled with his hands, not wanting to anger Ford further. But after a few moments, curiosity got the better of him. “Are you mad at Stan?”
Closing his eyes for a moment, Ford took a deep breath, then opened them again before continuing his work. Despite expecting it, Dipper was still disappointed. He had so many questions about what had happened to create the future he knew, but if he didn’t know anything about the past, he wouldn’t be able to answer them.
“Yes.”
Dipper sat up straight at the word. Ford still wasn’t looking at him, but the frustration on his face was evident.
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.” Ford muttered.
“But he’s here. Wait, why is he here?” Dipper was hit with the realization that he didn’t know how Stan had even known how to get to Gravity Falls. Unless he lived here too, but from Ford’s interactions with him, that seemed unlikely.
“Because I asked him to come… Gah!”
Dipper jumped as Ford threw his screwdriver on the table. “Wh-”
“This blasted thing doesn’t make sense. If I had some blueprints, I might be able to figure it out. But this machinery is too complex even for me.” Ford glared at the time machine.
Dread grew in the pit of Dipper’s stomach. “You…you can’t fix it?”
For a moment, Ford was quiet, his brow furrowed in thought. Then he straightened up, only to deflate again. “I…don’t think I can…but…I might know someone who…could help.”
“Really?” For a moment, Dipper was confused, then he remembered the journal and he straightened up. “Wait, your assistant? He’s good with machines, right?”
Ford glanced at him and sighed. “Yes, I just…have to find him.”
“You don’t know where he is?” The hope that had grown in Dipper’s chest deflated.
“I…have a few ideas...I just hope he’ll actually talk to me this time.”
------
“Absolutely not.” Ford frowned at Mabel and Stan, who had just asked about going into town together to get food.
Mabel felt disappointment worming its way into her chest, but she pushed it back. “Why not? It’ll be fun!”
Ford stared at her for a moment, as if she was some kind of puzzle. “It’s too dangerous. I’m not going to leave the por-my house without supervision.”
“What, you don’t have a lock?” Stan grumbled.
The glare that Ford shot at Stan was painful to look at, despite it not even being directed at her. “I’m not leaving my work for anyth-one to mess with.”
“You mean the big thing in the basement?” Mabel asked, which she regretted as Ford shot her a suspicious look.
“How do you-?”
“Dipper told me.”
Ford glanced at Dipper who looked at him sheepishly. Sighing, Ford shook his head. “Like I said, I don’t want to leave the house unsupervised.”
“Okay, fine, then I can just go with the kids and-” Stan started but Ford quickly held up his hand.
“Unfortunately, I need to go into town myself.”
“Why? Don’t trust us to get the right food?” Stan countered.
For a moment, Ford just glared at Stan, and Mabel hated how icy his look was.
“No, I have to find someone if we want a chance at fixing the time machine and I’m the only one who knows him. And where to find him.”
Stan made a dismissive sound, but before he could say anything, Mabel piped in, not wanting Stan to get even more annoyed. “How about we split up!”
Everyone turned to look at her and Mabel gave her biggest grin. “Me and Dipper can go with Ford and Stan can stay to watch things.”
Mabel tried her best not to be disappointed when she saw the deep frown that grew on Ford’s face.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I should just go into town myself and-”
“Oh yeah, it’s not like you’re seriously sleep deprived or anything,” Stan muttered.
“Well, if you-”
“Hold up!” Dipper raised his voice, and Mabel had a feeling that he wasn’t a huge fan of the brothers arguing either. “Why can’t me and Mabel go with Ford while Stan stays here to watch the house?”
A grin grew on Mabel’s face and she gave Dipper a thumbs up at his support of her plan. As much as she hated the idea of leaving Stan, she couldn’t help but feel excited to have some quality time with Dipper and maybe figure out what was going on between Stan and Ford.
“I suppose it could work but...I’m still not a fan of it…” Ford glanced at Stan for a moment, and unfortunately Stan saw it.
“What, you don’t think I can sit in a house?” Stan deadpanned.
Clutching his hands behind his back, Ford’s gaze flickered away from Stan. “No, it’s not that it’s just…there are things that you don’t understand, and if anything went wrong…”
“You don’t trust me.” It was an accusation, but Mabel didn’t miss the hurt that crossed Stan’s face.
“I didn’t…look we’re wasting time. I’ll just go into town.” Ford glanced at Mabel. “You can come if you’d like, but Dipper has more experience with supernatural occurrences so he should stay here in case anything…happens.”
Stan opened his mouth, probably about to argue some point, but Mabel quickly jumped in. “Sounds good to me!” In reality, she would rather Dipper go with her or she stay with Stan, but she was tired of the arguing and it wasn’t the worst solution.
“Are you sure, Mabel?” Stan asked, glancing at his brother with uncertainty.
Dipper was looking at her in concern too, but she just grinned and looked at Ford. “Yup! It’ll be fun!”
For a moment, Ford just stared at her, then sighed. “Alright then, we should get going.” He held out his hand towards Stan.
For a moment, Stan looked confused, then understanding crossed his face and he sighed, reluctantly pulling out his keys. “You better not crash her Ford; I know your luck with cars. And with that eyepatch you’re bound to be even worse.”
Grabbing the keys, Ford let out a huff. “I still know how to drive, Stanley. And I can still see. Come along, Mabel.”
Mabel gave her brother and grunkle a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him. We’ll be back soon!” Then she headed after the author. Sure, she didn’t really know him, and he did seem a little…cold, but it would totally be fine! It was just an opportunity to get to know Ford. And maybe, just maybe, she could get him to tell her what was going on between him and Stan so she could help fix it.
#trapped in the past#timtrapped au#timestuck au#gravity falls#gravity falls au#gravity falls fanfiction#stanford pines#stanley pines#mabel pines#dipper pines#stan pines#ford pines#pines family#aceo writes things#(was that a tag i used? i do not remember it's been so long...)#aceo draws things
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If I'm There: Chapter Twenty-One
when you realize the significance of the monkey (∩˃о˂∩)♡
read from part one here!
summary: Noah and Natalie met in high school and developed a relationship through their love of music and art. Falling in love, innocent and young, they think nothing can keep them apart. However, sometimes in the pursuit of your dreams the things we love the most get left behind.
this is a complete work of fiction, some characters while based on real people are totally made up. :)
word count: 3.6k , edited by me ....soooo if you see something spelt wrong no you didn't.
taglist : @lma1986 @cookiesupplier @notingridslurkaccount @blackveilomens @thisbicc @laurpartyprogram @concretenoah @thebadchic @jessitpwk @madomens @samanthasgone @myownthoughts12
I picked up Erin from Ashely’s house at around 10 am the following morning. I don’t think anything will ever compare to her seeing me and running with excitement into my arms for a big hug. I just hope she still feels that way later today when I tell her about Noah.
“I missed you Mom!” she calls out and I pick her up and swing us around in a circle. “Oh my sweet girl, I missed you so much!” I tell her and kiss all over her cheeks and the top of her head. We finish gathering her things and thank Ashely and her mom again before we eventually get into the car and head off to begin our girls’ day. “So nails first or food? How are you feeling?” I ask as I turn on the radio and begin backing out of the driveway.
“FOOD! Please! We only had cereal for breakfast and you know I need more than that.” I laugh because I know exactly that. My girl can eat! “Okay, so first food and then nails!” I say, then reach over to turn up the radio when I hear “Dancing Queen” by ABBA come on. We sing our hearts out on the drive to our favorite breakfast spot near our house. We sit in our regular corner booth by the back window. I order a coffee and a full stack of pancakes with eggs and bacon. Erin orders an orange juice and the same amount of food and I know she’ll finish it all. She recaps me on the last two days and all the fun she had with her friend, “but I missed you and Hales a lot. I’m happy to be back home now.” she says stuffing a huge piece of pancake into her mouth. “I’m happy you’re home too little bug, but why don't you take smaller bites? I don’t need you choking thirty minutes after getting you back.” She smiles with her mouth full of food, “okay” her muffled voice comes out and I can’t help but laugh.
With breakfast finished the two of us head to the nail salon and I decide we should really pamper ourselves and we get the deluxe mani/pedi package. The salon I like plays old MTV music videos on big TVs all around the room. The sound of Paramore while my feet soak in the soothing heat and the massage chair digs into my back puts me into a state of complete relaxation and I find my mind wandering. Stuck on a moment from the night before, Noah and I sitting together on the couch and our almost kiss. If things were different, if we lived in an alternate universe and it wasn’t ten years later I would have closed the distance and would have let myself be sucked into his gravity. He has everything he wants now, his music, his band, it’s what he left to find ten years ago.
I look over at Eric who’s set the chair to the back-patting setting that has her voice bouncing “Ah, ah, ah, m-o-o-m, d-o-o-o I s-o-u-n-d w-e-i-r-d.” the smile that breaks across my face is full of love as I take in the beautiful girl in front of me. “You sound perfect baby,” I say and ruffle her hair softly. The rest of our appointment goes by in a relaxing daze. We laugh while Erin tells me about her last two days. We finish up and I mentally prepare myself for the conversation we are about to have. I am going to tell her about Noah. I just hope she doesn’t hate me afterward.
We get back to the house and she rushes into her room to unload her dirty clothes and reunite with the stuffed animals she had to leave behind. “Fluffy! I never want to be separated again!” I hear her exclaim from outside of her room. Before talking to her I head into my room and open my closet door, I’m looking for a certain shoe box. “Where the hell is it?” I ask myself, “Ah ha!” It’s nestled deep into the corner hiding under the Carhart hoodie I borrowed from Haylie who stole it from who knows. I take a deep breath and lift the lid of the box. On top are several photos of me and Noah, some of the two of us, and Nicholas as well. Wadded up in a tight ball is the Bring Me The Horizon shift Noah gave me all those years ago. There’s also a CD, some random ticket stubs, drawings, and more pictures at the bottom. I decide to just take the whole box and head towards Erin’s room.
Knocking on the door I hear a soft, “Come in!” I walk into her room and see that she’s decided today is the day she’s going to reorganize her bookshelf.
“Hey sweety, can I talk to you about something?” I ask and try to hide the nervousness in my voice. “Umm yeah, is everything okay? You sound weird.” So I didn’t do a great job at hiding it. “Yes, everything is okay. There’s just something that I need to talk to you about. Something important.”
Two lines appear between her eyebrows and her face contorts in confusion. “Is this an I can keep working and listening important or do I need to sit next to you on the bed?” she asks and I pat a spot next to me on the bed to wordlessly answer her question. “Oof, okay,” she whispers out and climbs next to me on her bed.
“You remember how I told you that I got pregnant when I was still in high school but my boyfriend and I had already broken up?” she continues looking at me with confusion all over her face but nods slightly, “Yeah, I remember. You said you two never saw each other again.” I take her hand and smile, trying to fight the tears in my eyes.
I open the box and hand her a picture of Noah and I. “His name is Noah. This is your father.” She takes the photo and looks back and forth between me and and younger version in the photo. “You look so different,” she says and I huff a laugh. “Yeah, that’s what growing up will do to you.”
“Where is he?” she asks quietly looking up at me. “Well, he’s actually in town for a few days if you would like to meet him.”
“Where has he been?” she asks and that takes me off guard. I struggle with what to say, not wanting to keep anything from her but also not wanting to upset her. “He’s been in Los Angeles. That’s where he works.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s in a band, playing music, and sings all around the world.”
“Hm,” she says and I’m not sure what she’s thinking.
“So he didn’t want me?” and there it is. The knife in my heart makes it hard to keep the food down from earlier but I push through, remaining strong.
“Oh no sweety, that’s not true at all. He didn’t know for so long. It’s very complicated adult stuff. Things that took me a long time to understand myself” I try to explain to her.
“Will you tell me when I’m older the complicated stuff?”
“Of course baby, I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know about him.”
“Is he nice?” Erin asks in a quiet shy voice, “Do you think he would like me?”
I wrap her up in my arms and squeeze her tightly, “he is very nice and he will like you very much I promise.” I run my hand down her head, soothing her soft brown hair.”Does that mean you’d like to meet him?”
The air is still in the room as Erin takes time to think. Her small face scrunched in concentration. “I think I would like to meet him, yes. But are things going to change? My friend Brody’s parents don’t live together and he goes to his dad’s house every other weekend. Do I have to do that now?” I pull her closer until my head is resting on top of hers. “Nothing will change without you making that decision. Right now, we take things one step at a time.” she nods her head and wraps her arms as tight as she can around me.
“Would you be interested in meeting him tomorrow? He will be leaving again soon with his band so we won’t see him again for a few weeks. I can tell him we can wait if you’d be more comfortable.” I’m also definitely scheduling an earlier therapy appointment for her this week. Her head remains buried in my side while she takes everything in. I am giving her all the time she needs to process, so if she wants to wait until he’s more available I don’t blame her.
“I think I would like to meet him. But what if you just invited him over here? So I can show him my stuff and maybe he will like me even more?”
I move back so I can take her small face into my hands. “I can do that but I need to to listen to me now, there is no one on this planet that could possibly not like you Erin Howlston and I know for a fact that he will love you so much because you are you and you are perfect,” I emphasize my point my giving her cheeks a little squeeze. “But you have to think that because you’re my mom.” she quips through pursed lips. “And he’s your father, so by your logic, he must also think that,” I argue back and I see her eyes turned down slightly in the corner.
“But he made you sad right? That’s why you broke up when you were in high school. I don’t want him to make you sad again.” My heart swells. While I drop an atomic bomb of information about her life she’s worried about my feelings. I must be doing something right with this whole parenting thing.
“Sweetie, that was a long time ago. My heart is all better now and I’m not sad anymore. I am so so so unbelievably happy with our life. With you and Aunt Haliey, Uncle Kyle and Aunt Mags, and little Natasha. I think Noah is a very good person and he wants to be in your life because he cares about you. Even without having met you.” She gives me a small smile and hugs me again.” okay, I want to meet him. You said tomorrow right?” she looks up at me with her deep brown eyes that have always been just like his. “Tomorrow it is. I will give him a call later today, but what do you want to do now? Play? We could watch a movie? Or draw together?”
Quickly detangling from my arms she races to pick up her paper and stretching pencils, “Drawing please! I need help with the cat I’m drawing.”
We spend the next few hours drawing together on her bedroom floor laughing and listening to music. For Christmas last year she asked for a Google Mini so she could ask it to play music whenever she wanted. Now we are listening to “The Very Best Of Otis Redding”. When she was a baby I listened to it all the time. I used to sing “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” while rocking her to sleep. Sometimes I walk by her room and she is listening to it while reading or playing with her toys and it reminds me of holding her when she was so little and how she would hold my finger so tightly.
I feel the tug of guilt in my gut about Noah having missed those moments but force it down, there’s nothing that can be done about the past but we can create new memories with the three of us together. Even if Noah and I aren’t together we can be the two parents that Erin needs. Maybe we can even be friends.
Later, once Erin wanted time alone to play with her toys I went into my room to call Noah. I haven’t been able to talk to Haylie about any of this yet, she woke up late with a hangover and had to run out of the house for the day to meet with her editor to talk about her next book release.
I close my door most of the way, only keeping a small sliver open in case Erin calls out for me. I sit on the edge of my bed and hit the green call button on my new Noah contact page, It rings a few times before I hear the sound of him picking up on the other end.
Hey! Natty, how are you doing? How’s it going?
Hi Noah, things are good. How are you?
There’s rustling in the background of his call, “oohh is that Natalie??” I hear who I think is Folio.
Yes, shush…not you Nat! You don’t have to shush. Sorry, Folio is being an idiot.
I’m good, just working on some new remixes for our deluxe album.
I just finished talking with Erin and she suggested I invite you over tomorrow to meet. Is that okay?
Tomorrow sounds great! What time is good for you two?
How does 12:30 work? I can order us sandwiches from the sub shop in town, Erin’s favorite.
Perfect, 12:30 is perfect. Thank you so much, Natty. I won’t let you down again. I promise.
I try not to blush like a preteen at the way his voice goes almost breathless as he makes his promise to me.
Um. so I’ll see you tomorrow then, bye!
I try to rush off the phone as fast as possible before I let myself word-vomit anything stupid.
Bye Natty, I’ll see you tomorrow, looking forward to seeing you and meeting Erin.
A few minutes I hear Haylie unlock the door and head into the house and she calls out like she did the night before. “Honeys!! I’m home!” she calls from the front room. “Hey Hales!” Erin and I both call out.
Before I have the chance to call down to her to come up so I can relay everything that’s happened since we separated after the concert, she is racing up the stairs taking two at a time. She swings my door open, stepping into my room with a huge face-splitting smile on her face. “Sooo?? How did it go?” she asks moving closer into my room and creating the same small gap in the door before sitting down next to me on the bed. “Well, before I drunkenly barged in. sorry about that. That Folio knows how to throw them back, he’s pretty hot don’t you think?”
She has this twinkle in her eye when she says it and I laugh and roll my eyes at her. “It went well, he was a little upset at first which I wasn’t surprised by. He cried I cried, it was very emotional. He wants to meet her and then stay in Austin during their break in between tour dates.” As I recant my mind whirls and everything hits me more than I expected. “He said that he wanted this life with me, wanted the family and the happiness and the love that he should have fought harder for me, should have never let me go.” I try to keep my voice steady but I can feel my throat getting thick with emotion. Haylie wraps her arm around me and remains quiet while I continue telling her all about what happened. “And then when I was showing him pictures in her baby book there was this moment..” I slowly trail off and she pops forward and her eyes widen in surprise.
“What kind of moment?” she asks in a voice that goes all jelly-like and I manage to look slightly shameful before I tell her. That I so easily folded in his presence is borderline embarrassing, just shows how powerful his hold is still over my heart. But right now I can’t think with my heart, now is the time to think with my brain. While also considering Erin’s heart.
“We might have almost kissed,” I tell her while I bury my face in my hands. “OH MY GOD! NATALIE !” she shrieks and I quickly throw my hands over her mouth. “Shush! Haliey oh my god, Erin will hear you!” and just like that I hear her little voice calling from down the hall, “everything okay in there?” she asks. “Yes!” “Everthing is fine!” we answer in unison and I think she retreats back into her room.
“You almost kissed him! How? What did he say? Did he lean in? How did he act after the almost kiss,” she shoots out the questions in a rapid-fire succession and I rub the sides of my temples before answering her. “Um. I guess he was kind of leaning in, he was doing that thing you know. When a guy looks between your eyes and your lips. I felt so weak. Oh my god, I almost kissed him, and then the book fell and I remembered what we were doing and why he was there and I felt so stupid.”
“You are NOT stupid! There were a lot of emotions flowing, you hadn’t had a moment alone with him in years and it’s not like when you broke up you two weren’t completely and totally in love with each other. It’s not like those feelings just go away.” she says while rubbing up and down along my back.
“I just can’t do that with him, It’s not a good idea for the two of us to do anything that could jepordize Erin’s happiness.” I nod to myself, wiping one of my hands down my face and then raking them through my hair. Haliey and I flop backwards onto the pillows while I finish catching her up on everything that happened, including my conversation with Erin and then my phone call with Noah right before she got home.
“You want me to clear out tomorrow so y’all have some privacy?” she asks and I balk at the thought. “No way! I would never ask you to leave your own house. Plus, you’re such an important person in Erin’s life, I’m sure she would also want you here.”
The three of us spend the rest of our evening lounging in the living room watching TV in our pajamas. We make homemade pizzas and cookies for dinner together in the kitchen while singing along to Disney’s greatest hits. We end the night all cuddled together on the couch watching Erin’s favorite movie “The Secret Life of Arrietty” and when she falls asleep I carry her up the stairs into her room and deposit her into her bed. I gently kiss her forehead and turn on her glowing nightlight before closing the door and heading back to help Haylie finish cleaning the kitchen.
The next day is quickly upon us and I nervously watch the clock ticking away as we get closer and closer to 12:30. I picked up the subs a few minutes ago so hopefully Noah isn’t late. No one likes a soggy sub.
Just seconds before the second-hand crosses over the 12 on the clock there is a knock on the door that causes me to jump straight out of my seat. Haylie laughs at me as she rubs my shoulders walking past and into her room. She told Erin that if she needed her at any time to just barge in and get her. I walk towards the door and Erin suddenly looks very nervous and gets up to hide behind my back. “Are you okay baby?” I ask her quietly before answering the door. She nods her head against my back and whispers, “Yes, I’m fine.” she gripping the back of my jeans but I think if she didn’t want to do this anymore she would say something, she’s just nervous. Hell, I’m nervous.
I open the door and Noah is standing there with a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand and a stuffed monkey in the other. “Hi,” he says in a soft and nervous voice. I return his greeting with a warm smile. “Come on in” I open the door wider so he can come in and Erin scoots along with me not quite ready to reveal herself. “How are you doing?” he asks and hands the flowers over to me, “these are for you.” He gestures to the monkey, “And this is for Erin.” she peaks her head out from behind me and looks up towards Noah and the monkey. “That’s for me?” she asks quietly. Noah crouches down to be at her eye level and hands out the toy to her. “Yes, this is for you. Do you like monkeys?” He asks and I see a small smile appear on her face. “I do like monkeys. I saw some at the zoo a few days ago with my friend Ashely.” She holds out her hand to accept the offering. “Hi Erin.” he says with a warm smile, “I’m Noah, it’s very nice to meet you?” She slowly eases out from behind me and is now standing beside me and at eye level with Noah, still crouched. “It’s nice to meet you too. Even though you made my mom sad.”
Oh, Jesus, this is going to be an interesting afternoon.
Next chapter
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The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Eight
Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU
❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁
Word Count: 11438
Rating: General
Summary: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...
Content Warnings: Smooching 👀, alcohol consumption.
Author's Note: I was going to post this on Friday but just didn't really feel right after the news, but I'm very happy to finally share this one with you! Big chapter for our dear reader and Din's story together as their relationship to each other reaches a new stage. Next chapter is equally important and she also earns a nickname from Din which is very cute 🥺! Can't wait to finish editing and share that one, too! Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Thanks again to @suresnips for being my beta. Your feedback is always so helpful and appreciated ♡
7. Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]
Usually, when a new season of The Mandalorian began filming, Din would feel thoroughly invigorated by the process. Donning his precious beskar’gam and using the expertise he had accumulated through all of his training in the ancient Way to perform stunts helped him feel in touch with his roots. It helped Din to feel connected to the people who had taken him in when he was a destitute orphan, found wandering the streets. Yet, the beginning of filming for the third season had not brought such emotions forth within Din. Instead, he felt rather drained by the entire process.
As he sat there in the back of the car that ferried him the short distance to and from the studios daily. Din was grateful that it was almost the end of the week for his patience was running thin. The shoot for the first episode of the third season of The Mandalorian was drawing to a close, ending in a climactic final act with plenty of fight scenes for Mando. Fortunately, since the day at the zoo, he had felt slightly more settled mentally than he had on the day when he was constantly missing his cues and was sent for an early lunch. The clarity the conversation by the penguin enclosure had brought had calmed his mind, and now he knew with certainty that nothing was standing in his way from attempting to claim your heart.
Despite how well the shoot was going for the most part, there was a certain curly-haired co-star who seemed determined to get on Din’s last nerve. The constant questions and teasing from Peli about how the flowers had been received and the outing to the zoo had been amusing at first, but now they were beginning to irritate Din. Although he cared for Peli a great deal and was always grateful for how much she cared about him and Grogu, sometimes she could grate on Din’s nerves. The talkative, eccentric woman was someone Din knew that he could always turn to for advice, yet he also found that sometimes she could be a little overbearing and eager to give her advice in situations where it wasn’t even necessary.
Din could not wait for tomorrow evening when he had arranged what he thought was the perfect proper first date. Finally, the two of you would be able to spend time together, no work, no zoos, and no toddlers. He wished that time would speed up so that Friday evening would roll around and he would finally be able to be in your presence again. Although there were not too many miles that separated you from each other and despite having exchanged phone numbers, things had been too hectic to take advantage of that fact. To Din, you could have been on the other side of the world entirely rather than only a few minutes drive away.
It wasn’t that Din didn’t want to text; he did, more than anything. But doing so was a risk. What if you asked a question that he could not easily answer? Din knew that it would be incredibly difficult to continue small talk via text, given the gravity of the secret that he was keeping. How could he possibly say he was just about to beat up an entire platoon of Praetorian Guards if you asked what he was doing at work? No, he had to be tactful about how he handled this part of his life. Din would never outright lie to you, but he knew he had to obscure the truth from you. It was a line, however, that he was struggling to tread. The guilt had been eating him up inside, but Din knew this was for the best. He had to protect himself. Din hoped you would not take his lack of frequent texts as rudeness, or a sign that he was not keen on you. In reality, it was entirely the opposite.
With all the physical fight scenes that were present in the season finale, Din needed to be focused and on the top of his game. Despite the clarity that your outing to the zoo had brought, focusing on a fictional fight scene was complicated given the numerous complex emotions he was currently dealing with. For one, he had not been able to stop thinking about the time the two of you had spent together at the zoo the previous weekend. Since he had met you, Din was experiencing feelings that he had been convinced that he would never feel again. Not after Omera, the woman that Din had come so close to allowing himself to fall for before he realised that their ways of life would ultimately prove incompatible.
Din still found that his mind occasionally drifted back there, to Sorgan, the idyllic village where he had laid low for a couple of months with work. Memories of the beautiful woman, with her long black hair and kind brown eyes, flickered through his mind. Din thought fondly of her, of how diligently she had taken care of him for the short time their paths crossed when his work liaising with law enforcement to root out organised crime gangs had taken him to Sorgan. Coincidentally, it was during that very same job that Din had encountered Grogu. Indeed, the boy had only been in Din’s care for a matter of days when he had been tasked to gather intelligence in that picturesque farming village where he had come so close to leaving his nomadic lifestyle behind and finally putting down roots. He had agonised for the first few months over whether his decision to leave had been the right one. Although it had hurt greatly at the time, now with time separating him from Omera and Sorgan, Din knew that his decision to leave unquestionably was the correct one. Especially when the call with the offer of the role of The Mandalorian came through only a few weeks later.
Since Omera, Din had lived such a solitary life that he had almost forgotten how incredible it felt to enjoy someone’s presence as much as he enjoyed the evening at the museum and the day at the zoo with you. Din knew that deep down, complete solitude was not entirely what he wanted for his life. But it was just how things had turned out, he had made his peace with that. Until you came along.
Before then, Din had been pretty content to isolate himself. It had just been him and Grogu in the peaceful cottage that he had just returned to after the long day’s filming, Grogu already asleep in his arms. Although Din usually relished the quiet evenings with his son, he was quietly glad that filming had overrun and Grogu had fallen asleep as soon as his tiny frame had been secured in the car seat. There would be no dinner and bath time tonight; instead Din carried his sleeping son upstairs, grateful that Iggy had already changed him into his pyjamas once the filming had looked likely to overrun so Din did not have to disturb him. Din placed Grogu gently under the covers, tucking him in and leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Goodnight, Grogu,” Din whispered into the silent baby monitor before he grabbed the baby monitor and made his way downstairs.
With Grogu asleep, Din was struck by the stillness of the cottage. It was dark and soundless. Usually, Din savoured his downtime, the moments he spent alone, away from others. Yet, for the first time since he had moved here, Din began to contemplate another’s presence here. He wondered how it would feel to have you here, in his orbit… in his home. How well you would fit in amongst the stunning scenery, with your beauty. Evening walks with Grogu, returning to the cottage where the two of you would bathe him before you cooked and ate a meal together at the polished wooden dining table. Then you’d cuddle on the couch together, Din holding you tightly in his arms and nuzzling into your hair.
Din shook his head and moved into the kitchen to prepare some food, almost disgusted with himself for how carried away he had just gotten, his imagination running wild. Such a thing could never happen, at least not until Din was more certain that he could trust you with his secret. For his cottage, with all of its proximity to the studios, was certain to provoke a line of questioning from you that he would be unsure that he could answer without breaking his vow of honesty to you.
Truthfully, the depth of his emotions had terrified him. Intimacy like this, actually wanting to be in the presence of another was a new sensation for Din. After so long spent in solitude, it was going to take some getting used to. Din had been alone for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt to feel like this.
Din had partly kept to himself because he viewed his life as much too complicated to allow someone else into, feeling that it was unfair to involve someone else with how unpredictable and nomadic his lifestyle was. There was also Grogu to consider, especially with the attention and stability that the little boy required taking absolute precedence. Yet, deep down, Din knew that he was terrified of getting close enough to someone in case the day ever came when he lost them. Losing his parents at such a young age left scars deep within Din that he was struggling to overcome even so many years later.
Of course, Grogu had begun to slowly but surely break down the emotional walls that Din had erected around himself. Until he had found the little boy in the attic on that fateful day, Din had not realised his capacity for love. Now, though, another presence in Din’s life was beginning to chip away at those walls with all of the light and warmth you had brought to his life.
Din was attracted to the way you looked. But to him, your beauty went far further than merely skin deep. He found himself more able to relax in your presence in a way that he had not around others for a long time. Despite how much he knew you loved the show – after all, it was the reason he had crossed paths with you in the first place – somehow, it was easy to forget the burden of his secret in your presence. Din was so mesmerised by your intellect and how good you were with Grogu, how patient and kind you were to the little boy despite his nervousness and emotional outbursts. Anyone whom Din Djarin was going to fall for had to care for Grogu, too.
All feelings of awkwardness that Din had felt over bringing Grogu with him to meet you at the zoo had dissipated the second that he had seen you. Din had been fearful of the way that his son’s presence might be misconstrued as a lack of interest or viewing the outing as purely platonic. But you had not had that reaction at all. It had been the complete opposite, you had welcomed Grogu’s presence and been so attentive when the little boy had shown signs of being upset in the frog exhibit. The kindness that you had extended to Grogu in the museum had continued even when you were not being paid to show it, something that had relieved Din immensely.
Seeing you interact with Grogu had awakened something inside of Din, he was feeling strong emotions that he was not sure he had ever experienced at this intensity before. Time spent with you strengthened Din’s instinct that somehow, he just knew that you were right for him and the way you were seamlessly slotting into his life with Grogu was surely proof of that. Din had not spent much time with you but already he knew that the bond with you was something special, something that he had been searching for for a long time. With you, he felt like he finally had found a part of him that he had not even realised he was missing.
That realisation of how quickly you had become so important to him both scared him and excited him in equal measure. Din had to keep reminding himself that he had to maintain some distance and not let you in completely until he had told you the truth. Yet, it was just too easy to let his guard down around you. Although he feared the repercussions of his secret being revealed, never seeing you again was simply not an option. That was why he had enlisted Fennec’s help to plan what he hoped would be an ideal first date.
Given the circumstances behind what was – to your knowledge, at least – the first time Din had crossed paths with you, he figured that there was no point attempting to hide the benefits that his job came with. It would have been a pointless endeavour, considering that you knew his bosses had the financial capability to allow them to rent out the British Museum for just him and Grogu. So, rather than shying away from that fact, Din exploited that benefit to organise a date that he was sure would go down a treat and allow you to look at your favourite painting without the mindless tourists that you so hated.
Din knew that with the date he had planned, he was opening himself up to conversations about how it was possible. But it was a risk he was willing to take. Besides, if you ever alluded to his work Din, planned to say that he had signed NDAs – which was not a lie. It was an easy way to get around any hypothetical questions. Not that you had ever really questioned him on text this week, even when Din had told you he had a busy, draining day at work. Your replies had just voiced concern and hope that he would have some time to relax, rather than pushing for details. Din was relieved that you seemed perfectly content to be in the dark about specific details about his job. Though Din thought that you perhaps would not be so laid back if you knew exactly what it entailed. No, he was sure that you would suddenly have boundless intrigue about what it was like to be The Mandalorian.
Your easy-going nature meant that Din had felt even less troubled about leaning into the privileges that came with his mysterious line of work. So he had enlisted the help of Fennec to arrange something he was certain would mean an awful lot to you. Organising such a date had even been worth the playful ribbing from Jim that Din had received when the two had passed in the corridor. Din was grateful that his helmet had hidden the blush that swept over his features when Jim had remarked: “It must be someone special, first the flowers and now this.” Jim was right of course, the person Din was seeing was very special.
Thoughts of how the date would go raced through Din’s mind that night as he lay in bed. He was excited to see how you would react to what he had planned for your evening. But he was also anxious to see your reaction when he revealed what he had planned for your date. Above all, Din was hopeful that the spark that had been evident in your encounters so far would continue when it was just the two of you. Din’s mind took longer than usual to switch off, but fortunately, it was not an issue as he was not required on set the following day. The late night of filming meant that the morning session had been postponed until the following week and Din was not required on set in the afternoon anyway, so effectively he had a three-day weekend to enjoy.
Din was thankful that the scenes to be filmed in the afternoon did not include him. It was a sign that the show was widening in scope, focusing on a story bigger than just Din’s journey as a lone bounty hunter making his way through the galaxy, as the show had once been. For the first few episodes, Din hardly spoke. It was something that the heads of the studio had been nervous about, wondering whether the audience would form an attachment to a nameless, faceless character who hardly uttered a word. Din was pleased that Mando had proved them all wrong, with the almost universal praise and acclaim that the season had received. He had been relieved too, at how much praise his performance in particular had garnered. Not that Din had sought it out, but Jim and Dale had sent him a selection of glowing reviews to reassure Din. Their gamble and trust in an unknown, entirely inexperienced actor who wanted to remain anonymous had more than paid off.
Now though, the scope of The Mandalorian’s third season had hugely increased and other characters had been introduced. They were mainly fellow Mandalorians that Mando was both allied to and sceptical of. Bizarrely, it mirrored reality for Din as the casting choices had initially irritated him and he had been suspicious of the newcomers. Unlike the casting for the main character, the studio had not elected to cast real Mandalorians, citing budget concerns. Jim and Dale had been equally disappointed, insisting that they had lobbied for real Mandalorians to be cast. But they were so rare, expensive and tricky to negotiate with that in the end, cost had won out.
Their apologies did not stop Din from being any less disgusted that the people walking around on set were pretenders, merely fitted in their beskar’gam by the costume department without any understanding of how sacred each piece of armour was. How centuries of Mandalorians had fought and died to preserve armour such as the ones they were wearing.
Din was silently enraged by the knowledge that these people were just viewing their beskar’gam as a costume, something that could be taken on and off, without any true understanding of the deeper sacrifice and meaning of being a Mandalorian. Din had sought a lot of counsel from the golden-haired woman who led his tribe. She had been dismayed by it too, but reminded Din that he was doing nothing wrong. It was an unfortunate pitfall of working with such a corporation, which had shown little respect for various cultures throughout its history. It was the latest in a long list of such behaviour, and Din should not have been too surprised.
It was all contributing to the sense of unease that he had felt on set during the first two weeks of feeling. Somehow, things felt much different than the first two seasons. It did not help that there was pressure to surpass their immense popularity, either. Din always feared that sooner or later, the bubble would burst, and people would realise that he was not good enough to be The Mandalorian.
For now, those thoughts were far away from Din’s mind as he tried to get his body to sleep. He focused on thoughts of you, the way you looked at him and how warm your body had felt, pressed up against his as the two of you sat next to each other eating ice creams on the bench outside the London Zoo. Din was only hours away from seeing you again, a prospect that excited and terrified him in equal measure. So many questions that would be answered the following day. But, now, it was time to rest…
✯ ✯ ✯
It was fortunate that Din was not required on set, as it was not even six a.m. when Grogu’s cries on the baby monitor roused Din from the peaceful slumber that he had eventually fallen into. He did not grumble or complain, just swung his long, muscular legs out of bed and made his way into his son’s bedroom next door.
“Morning, pal,” Din rasped, reaching down to scoop Grogu out of his bed. “You hungry?” Din asked and was relieved when Grogu furiously nodded. Mercifully, it did not appear to be one of those days where it was difficult to discern Grogu’s immediate needs. “Okay, buddy. Let’s go get you something to eat, I know it was a late night of filming yesterday and you didn’t eat on time.”
With Grogu seated in his high chair, chubby hands happily clutching a serving of his favourite animal crackers, Din took his phone out and debated sending you a text. He knew that you would probably be waking up for work soon, not too many miles away. Din found himself wondering whether he was being utterly ridiculous for pining over you this much so soon after meeting, but then he remembered how his heart sang whenever you were near. With that thought, his thumbs moved to type the text.
Hope you have a good day at work. Remember, Trafalgar Square at 8:30! Can’t wait to see you.
Din read it several times, hoping it didn’t sound too patronising with his comment about enjoying work, especially when his job was nothing like yours. When he was finally satisfied with the text, Din sent it and took a deep breath. Even texting you felt like an event; Din wasn’t sure how he would survive time with just the two of you alone.
Din had already told you of the meeting place a few days before, once the details had been confirmed by Fennec, but an insecure part of him fretted that you had somehow forgotten, or made other plans and would not be there waiting for him. Meeting at Trafalgar Square was hopefully mysterious enough to throw you off the scent, even though the building Din would be taking you to was right there, overlooking the bustling square. Din was anxiously awaiting your reply; mercifully, a certain little boy provided the perfect distraction. Grogu was finished with his animal crackers and was furiously pointing in the direction of the garden, indicating that he wanted to go outside to play.
Din was only too happy to oblige, hoping that a few minutes of running around and playing on the climbing frame by the fire pit, right next to the little outbuilding which housed the gym would tire Grogu out sufficiently that the little boy would want another nap and Din could get some more rest. Instead, after running around, it almost seemed that Grogu had even more energy. So Din took him inside to the small room on the ground floor of the cottage that was essentially Grogu’s playroom. Din dug out some colouring books and the two set about spending the rest of their morning colouring in, a favoured bonding activity that Grogu always seemed to be in the mood for. Din could sense that his son possessed a great deal of talent. For exactly what, he wasn’t sure. But he hoped that Grogu would find it. Until then, Din was determined to nurture his artistic side.
While Grogu was particularly focused on colouring in a mountainous landscape, Din’s phone chimed and he almost fell off his chair in surprise. A morning of running around after his son had rather taken Din’s mind off the earlier text he had sent, but when a reply from you appeared on his lockscreen, Din suddenly felt lighter.
Thank you! Just arrived at work, I have to show some kids around for a tour. Hopefully they’re as well behaved as Grogu. I’m really excited to see you too :)
Reading your words made Din’s stomach flip. The way you had even referenced Grogu caused an ecstatic grin to spread across his face, he squeezed his eyes shut in glee. Din shook his head and returned his phone to his pocket, wondering what he had ever done to be so lucky to find you. He figured he would leave you to your tour and concentrated on the task at hand, colouring books with his boy.
After a couple more hours of art, the rumbling in Din’s stomach signified that it was lunchtime. Din headed into the kitchen and made some sandwiches for the two to share. The weather was warm, it was early July after all and it seemed as though the British weather had finally remembered what season it was, so Din took Grogu outside and the pair munched on their sandwiches outside on the patio next to the fire pit. It was a feature of the house which Din did not often use. He wondered whether he would sit outside here with you on a cooling summer night, the two of you huddled up together on a bench as you watched the flickering embers of the fire.
With lunch eaten and cleaned up, Din attempted to put Grogu down for a nap. Mercifully, Grogu was seemingly happy to get some rest, after his busy morning. His son’s eagerness for a nap gave Din the perfect opportunity to catch up on some much-needed sleep after the late night of filming and early morning thanks to his son’s antics. But as he lay there in bed, Din found that he could not settle. The knowledge of his upcoming date was still causing his stomach to do flips. Despite how drained he had felt after the first two weeks of filming, Din couldn’t help but wish that he was on set today. He was incredibly nervous about the upcoming date. Tonight, it would just be the two of you. There was nowhere to hide, just the two of you together. No beskar, no work and no toddlers. It was an equally terrifying and exciting prospect.
The next sound Din heard was the sound of the doorbell ringing. His eyes flew open and he was momentarily disoriented, forgetting where he was and having no sense of time whatsoever. Din leapt out of bed for the second time that day, panicking that he had overslept. Mercifully, the time on his watch read a little past five p.m. and Din rushed into Grogu’s room, panicking that his son would have woken up without him. He was relieved to see Grogu still sound asleep. Din didn’t have the heart to wake him just yet, so he headed downstairs and was greeted by a familiar hunched figure silhouetted through the glass in the door.
“Hi, Kuiil,” Din welcomed the diminutive man, with his impossibly pink skin, a smattering of white hair above his top lip and deep wrinkled skin. “Thanks for coming, Grogu is upstairs having a nap right now. Figured we could leave him until dinner is ready.”
“Perfect, I’ll get started on that right away,” the old man rasped as he hung up the brown coat he always seemed to wear in the hallway.
With Grogu asleep and Kuiil tackling dinner for the two of them, it was time for Din to get ready. He inhaled deeply in the shower, hoping that the heat of the hot jets as they rained down upon him would calm his nerves and soothe him somehow. The effect was fleeting before that stomach-flipping nervousness returned. He turned the shower off and exited the bathroom, wrapped in a towel to get ready. The house was a lot less still now. Somewhere below, he could hear the sounds of Kuiil and Grogu laughing and the occasional clanking of pots and pans as the old man continued preparing dinner. Din wondered whether the sound of you and Grogu interacting would ever drift through the cottage and greet his ears. Perhaps he would come in from a workout, to find the two of you playing together in Grogu’s room. Or he would descend the stairs in the morning to find you happily cooking in the kitchen, Grogu on your hip. It was such a vivid image that it almost took Din’s breath away. Din knew that he was probably several steps further than was normal for a first date. But then, the way he had met you had been far from normal.
After he had dressed, shaved slightly and styled his hair, Din stood in front of the mirror and raked his hand through his hair for what was probably the fiftieth time. Part of the perk of the helmet was that there was no stipulation for how he had to wear his hair and recently, he had been enjoying wearing it longer. His dark hair was pushed back past his ears, the curls were longer on the back of his head and towards the nape of his neck. His moustache had been trimmed slightly, as had most of the scruffy stubble that was usually dotted along his jawline. Din checked his outfit in the mirror one last time, confident that he had played it just right with his outfit. He was wearing a classic white button-down shirt, the first three buttons undone and pushed open to reveal his bronze skin beneath. The shirt was paired with form-fitting dark brown chinos that showed off his muscular legs, which he worked so hard to maintain with his exercise routine, while not being too skinny that they were uncomfortable.
Din took a deep breath and looked himself up and down one last time in the mirror, hoping that you would like what you saw. He had always struggled to gauge his attractiveness, which was unsurprising given how sheltered his upbringing had been and how much of his life was spent hiding his face behind his helmet. Still, when Din was free to show his face, he had never been particularly focused on others’ responses to him. Sure, he hadn’t failed to notice the occasional admiring looks from both men and women that were thrown his way, but most of the time he had been too focused on a job to stop and explore those gazes further. Now though, with you, he was finally getting to experience a whole new side of himself that had previously remained unexplored. It was an exhilarating prospect, but one that Din approached with equal trepidation. He could not shake the fear that you would perhaps be disappointed in what you saw.
After deciding that he was satisfied with his appearance, Din grabbed his wallet and phone from the dresser and shoved them in his pockets. His phone had not sounded since your earlier text to confirm the time and venue for your meeting and he wondered whether you were going through a similar process to him, agonising over your appearance. He wished that he could text you and tell you that you had no need to worry. For Din, you could wear anything and he would still be blown away by your beauty.
Din descended the stairs and entered the kitchen and was greeted by the adorable sight of his son sitting in his high chair, face and arms entirely covered by pasta sauce. Din smirked at the sight, grateful that he would not have to be embroiled in the clean-up operation that would surely take place while he was out on his date.
“Oh, Grogu,” Din laughed, “I’m going to keep my distance from you, buddy.” Din gestured towards the freshly-pressed, bright white shirt that he was wearing for his date. The last thing he wanted was for a mucky toddler to ruin his pristine outfit.
“As soon as he’s finished with his dinner, I’m going to be putting him straight in the bath,” Kuiil huffed. “At least he’s enjoying it, though.”
“It’s wonderful to see,” Din smiled proudly, relieved that Grogu was actually eating something other than his beloved animal crackers. It was a struggle to find foods that the little boy would try, but pasta with tomato sauce appeared to be something that could be added to Grogu’s list of safe foods.
Din poured himself a glass of water and then took a seat at the table, opposite Grogu and well away from the tomato sauce splash zone. He just enjoyed being in his son’s presence, watching with fascination the way Grogu seemed so enthralled by the textures of the pasta and the sauce that he kept making it into little balls with his chubby hands. It was definitely not the most conventional way to eat pasta, but it sure worked for Grogu and if it got him to explore new foods, both Din and Kuiil were more than happy to leave him to it.
Din also warred with the internal guilt that he sometimes felt when leaving Grogu behind, no matter how short of a time the two of them were apart. Din knew that Grogu was happy with Kuiil; he adored spending time with the older man and the two of them had a truly special bond that anyone who spent time with the two of them together felt privileged to witness. Din knew that Grogu would have a bath, play with his toys and then be put to bed. Din knew that he would be there when his son awoke the following morning. But there was still a nagging guilt in the back of his mind, berating him for leaving his boy alone for something as selfish as a date.
“Din, he’ll be fine,” Kuill smiled sympathetically. The kindly old man appeared to have understood where Din’s mind had wandered.
“I know, it’s not that I don’t trust you, Kuiil. There’s no one I’d rather him be with,” Din sighed, struggling to put his emotions into words. “I feel so responsible for him, it’s difficult to switch off.”
“Listen, enjoy your night with your lady. If anything happens at all, I will call you immediately. The car can quickly bring you back here, but really, I think this little one is worn out,” Kuiil nodded in Grogu’s direction. “Sounds like the two of you had a busy day before I even got here and after some post-bathtime playing, I’m sure he’ll be out like a light.”
“Thanks, Kuiil,” Din said appreciatively. He knew that the old man he entrusted Grogu with was nothing but diligent in his care of the boy, but there was always that lingering guilt that Din was never quite able to outrun, no matter how hard he tried.
Grogu had just about finished his dinner when the doorbell rang, signifying that Din’s driver had arrived. Din took a deep breath and braced himself to say goodbye to Grogu, hoping that it was one of those nights where Grogu would not get upset at his father leaving. Thankfully, as he leaned down to press a kiss to his boy’s coily hair, Grogu chirped happily and did not seem bothered that his father was leaving, especially as Kuiil was currently detailing all of the toys that Grogu could play with in the bath.
With his heart feeling lighter and safe in the knowledge that his son was going to be okay, Din pushed the old wooden door of the cottage open and made his way to the black van that would ferry him to central London to meet you. Part of the perks of his job was the fact that Din had a driver on call at all times, ready to take him wherever he desired on a moment’s notice. His usual driver was a man called Boba, Din suspected was around his age but somehow seemed more wizened. Din suspected that the two of them shared similar pasts, although he was inclined to keep personal chatter to a minimum.
“Hi, Boba,” Din greeted the bald man who was sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Good evening, Mr. Djarin,” Boba nodded, as he started the engine and drove off.
Din was grateful that Boba did not speak unless spoken to; he was not one for small talk, which suited Din perfectly. The radio was on, mercifully at a quiet volume and Din found himself staring out of the window as the lush green countryside turned into leafy suburbia and then, finally, the hustle and bustle of the big city. It took a certain amount of driving skill to be able to navigate London on a Friday evening, especially given the stop-start nature of the traffic. Din felt as though they were crawling along and wondered several times whether it would be quicker to walk.
Eventually, though, the car pulled up a street behind Trafalgar Square and Din eagerly hopped out, anxious to get to the meeting point even though he was twenty minutes early. He had left extra early to account for the stubborn London traffic which had proved to be a wise decision as, despite Boba’s driving skill, the journey had still taken more than an hour.
Din hovered by one of the two fountains, not sure where the most convenient place to meet was, given the size of the square. Although the Corinthian pillar that hosted a statue of a British naval hero on top was the focal point of the square, it was busy with tourists attempting to hop on the bronze lions dotted around the base. Din hoped that you would be able to spot him in his current location. He paced around, checking his watch every few minutes and nervously raking his hand through his hair.
“Hi,” a quiet, familiar voice spoke into the warm summer evening and Din immediately spun around, just like that day at the convention when you had caught him looking up at the poster.
“Hi,” Din breathed as he finally looked at you. The sight of you almost caused Din to topple backwards into the fountain. He was almost speechless, as his eyes traversed your body and appreciated the way your outfit complimented your body. “You look incredible,” Din breathed, utterly floored by the sight of you. He had seen you in full-nerd mode at the convention, in your work clothes and dressed down for a casual day at the zoo. But to see you dressed up slightly, with hair and makeup styled to match… you were a breathtaking vision before him and Din could scarcely believe that you were his date. He felt like the luckiest man in the entire world.
“Thank you,” you replied. Din watched as a shy smile crept across your features and you brought your hand to the side of your face, an indication that you were perhaps as nervous as him.
“Do you have any guesses as to the venue for our date?” Din asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. He wondered whether you had clocked how close the meeting point was to the stunning neoclassical building which looked out over the square.
“No, I figured we met here because of its location in central London. It’s close to a lot of notable places,” you shrugged. Din smirked, delighted that what he was going to say next was sure to surprise you.
“Well, I apologise if you’re a bit sick of museums given that you, uh, work in one all week,” Din said, bringing his hand to the back of his neck and squeezing in a self-soothing gesture. “But I remembered what you said during the tour, about a certain painting that always seems to have a crowd of tourists surrounding it…”
“Din! You didn’t!” You exclaimed, clapping your hand over your mouth in shock.
“Would you like to see the sunflowers without a crowd of people gathered around them?” Din asked, although he already knew what your answer would be.
“YES!” You practically squealed. For a moment Din wondered whether you were about to throw your arms around him in excitement as you appeared to move slightly towards him before you stopped in your tracks.
To Din, it appeared that you were holding back somewhat. He panicked that you were disappointed in his outfit, perhaps you had just been too polite to say no to a date. Din shook his head and dismissed those insecure thoughts as the two of you began walking up the stairs towards the stunning museum building. He could not forget the way you had looked at him when you had first turned around. There was definitely something there. Din focused on the building to ground himself, admiring the stunning facade. He gazed up at the portico, with its pillars and the dome on the roof above the pediment. Din hadn’t even stepped foot inside yet and he was already blown away by the beauty of the building. If the works contained inside were as incredible as the exterior, it was certain to be an incredible evening.
A museum worker was waiting at the entrance and she took the two of you inside and gave a brief talk about the rules and expectations for such an exclusive tour. Unlike during his visit to the British Museum, Din had requested that the two of you just be allowed to make your way around alone and, apart from a security guard who would follow you into each room but keep their distance, the two of you would be left to your own devices.
Din gazed up in awe at the dome above the steps that led up to the galleries. There were ornate marble pillars and gold patterns on the marble doorways. Every surface contained remarkable detail, even the mosaic floor, and Din almost felt that he couldn’t possibly take it all in at once. Surely he would have to stand here for hours and commit it all to memory. However, there was an entire, empty museum with untold treasures waiting to be explored.
“Where to start? This place is enormous!” Din remarked.
“Maybe we can start with the older paintings, the Renaissance and the like?” you suggested. “Then we can finish at the modern section, with the Impressionists and Van Gogh.”
“Lead the way,” Din gestured and you obeyed, practically galloping up the stairs towards the Renaissance wing.
Although Din could appreciate the skill that had gone into crafting such masterpieces so many centuries ago, the subjects of most of the paintings meant nothing to him as they mainly depicted religious history. The Creed that Din followed was quite different, with the bullet and sword carving out most of their history rather than the brush and pencil. Most of the figures meant nothing to him, although he was stunned by their attention to detail.
“Not really doing it for you?” You asked, as though able to sense Din’s disinterest with this particular section.
“Um, I mean… I can appreciate the skill but I prefer landscapes and nature, I think,” Din admitted, hoping that you did not think him uncultured. Din was anything but, yet his cultural background was worlds apart from what was depicted in this museum.
“To be honest, me too,” you shrugged. “There are only so many creepy babies and angels that I can stand to look at. I know a section that you’ll like!”
Din was stunned as you moved towards him and reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. He inhaled sharply as the realisation that you had actually taken his hand dawned upon him. Din did not have much time to react as you began leading him through the museum. All earlier nervousness on your end had apparently vanished, as you had actually taken Din's hand in your own. Din was so taken aback by the gesture and the feeling of your warm, soft hand against his, that he almost forgot to begin moving his legs to follow you. Fortunately, he remembered that to actually move forward he had to lift his feet, his brain finally catching up to your gesture. Din followed you to wherever you were taking him, a wide grin on his face as he appreciated the fact that you were joined together. He did not care where you were taking him, as long as the two of you were together.
Din did not have long to ponder where you were going as he was led into a smaller room off the main wings which contained a variety of stunningly detailed, colourful paintings of an incredible array of flowers. Din paused for a few moments, taking in the art in the room, but you were already marching to the centre of the room. Din was disappointed when you dropped his hand and moved further into the room, wishing that the two of you could have held hands all night.
“This is a section with a lot of Dutch flower artists, like de Heem, Ruysch and van Huysum,” you explained. “This one is by Brueghel the Elder. I just love the colours, so vibrant and the lighting is so realistic, it’s easy to forget that this is a painting. It looks almost photo-realistic, despite being over four hundred years old. Sorry, I’m going into tour guide mode, even though this isn’t my museum,” you added, sheepishly.
“Don’t apologise,” Din smiled, closing the distance between the two of you and nodding at you, willing you to continue. He was fascinated by your mind and wanted to hear what you had to say.
“You can see there are some tulips in this one, like the red one up there in the corner. At this time, the Dutch economy was built on tulip prices, people made enormous fortunes speculating on that little flower’s worth. Until, one day, the bubble burst and people lost everything. I think some Dutch people even resorted to eating tulips!”
“That’s fascinating,” Din shook his head as he took in the information. “Something so beautiful, eventually causing so much pain.”
“Yeah…” you breathed.
“Sorry, that was a little depressing,” Din scoffed. “I didn’t mean for it to be.”
“No, it’s alright. Art isn’t created in a vacuum, right? I mean, there’s a story behind every painting. I think it can help you connect with them on a deeper level.”
“It certainly can…” Din agreed, taking another step towards you.
“Um, anyway, perhaps we can head to the modern section,” you blurted out as if wanting to maintain your distance, “I’d like to take advantage of being able to look at the impressionists without people wanting to do a photoshoot by Van Gogh’s sunflowers or Monet’s water lilies,” you offered.
Din nodded in agreement and noticed that this time, you did not take his hand. That nagging feeling of insecurity was slowly creeping into his gut and he did not remotely enjoy the sensation. Why did you seem to be holding back from him? Din could not understand it. Surely, you understood how attracted he was to you?
Din followed you as you practically marched through the museum to the more modern section, stopping only briefly to draw his attention to a Holbein painting called The Ambassadors. Din listened intently as you explained that it was one of the most famous paintings in the gallery. Although he much preferred nature, he could appreciate the details of the clothes and the captivating facial expressions, especially given the size of the canvas. Then, the two of you left the Renaissance wing and moved to where the Impressionists were situated.
Din had followed you closely as you strode purposefully towards the entire reason that Din had arranged a private evening in this museum in the first place. To the most famous piece in the gallery, the one that people from around the country and indeed, the world, travelled to see: Vincent Van Gogh’s sunflowers. Now, Din was standing next to you in quiet contemplation in front of the piece, trying to appreciate every inch and understand what drew you to it.
“I can see why you like it so much,” Din offered. “There’s just something about it that makes you not want to look away.”
“Right? I could stare at it for hours,” you replied. “And honestly, without any tourists here, I might well do that.”
Din huffed a laugh at that. Although he was quietly jealous of the way that you were gazing at the painting of a man who had died over a century ago. Din wanted, more than anything, for you to turn your head and gaze at him with as much reverence as you were looking at the sunflowers.
“It was worth pulling all the strings just to see you so happy,” Din smiled.
You turned your head at that, granting Din’s wish as you looked at him, eyes full of emotion. You opened your mouth as if to say something before subtly shaking your head and seemingly deciding against it.
“Thank you, Din. It means the world to be able to stand here in front of a painting I love so much…”
“Well, can you please tell me more about the sunflowers, my favourite tour guide?”
You shook your head and smiled before you launched into another mini-art history lecture. “It’s my favourite piece because I think most people only understand it on a very surface level, whereas I’ve always thought it was quite a sad piece. A lot of us associate the colour yellow and indeed the sunflowers themselves with happiness, but the story behind this painting is anything but happy,” you paused, looking at Din as if to confirm that he was still interested. Din nodded and you continued: “Vincent was friends with a painter called Paul Gauguin and invited him to come and stay with him in Arles, a city in Southern France because he aspired to set up an art colony. So, while he waited, Vincent spent his days painting the sunflowers, intending that the piece would decorate Gauguin’s room. But he didn’t come. As more and more time passed, it was clear that despite Vincent’s enthusiasm, Gauguin was not in any hurry to join him. That’s why you can see the sunflowers at the bottom are dying,” you explained as you gestured towards the wilted flowers at the bottom of the painting.
Din slowly nodded as he cast his eyes towards the sad sunflowers that he had never noticed before. It suddenly gave the painting a newer, more mournful meaning, a perfect mix of enthusiasm and melancholia that Din found strangely relatable and moving.
“There are a few different versions of the painting, where you can see the sunflowers in various stages of decay. It shows just how lonely he was, in real time. Gauguin did eventually come, but the two of them did not get along. Their frequent explosive rows caused Gauguin to eventually leave, a couple of days before Christmas. The entire experience contributed to Vincent’s declining mental state and he entered an asylum, where he spent most of the last year of his life…” you observed, voice quiet now. “I think it’s strange really, that such a famous painting can be viewed so many different ways and that most people do not know the entire story. A lot of people love Van Gogh, but few people truly understand him. And even fewer, I believe, would want to be associated with him if they lived at the same time as him. We like to think that things would be different now and oddballs like Vincent would be treated better, but I’m not so sure. I think we still live in a world where people who are different are treated terribly and anyone who shows any kind of otherness is ostracised for it. He was misunderstood in life and equally in death, too.”
“Wow…” Din breathed. He knew, of course, that he should have expected more than a surface-level assessment of the piece coming from you. But he was no less stunned by the beautiful words that came out of your mouth, the sentiment expressed and the way you seemingly cared so deeply for the world around you and all of the people in it.
“Sorry, I went off on a bit of a tangent there…” you shook your head.
“Don’t apologise. You’re incredible,” Din reassured, beaming at you. His brown eyes widened in awe of the thoughts you had just shared with him.
The way you bit your lip, blushed and looked down slightly at the floor as if shy about the compliment Din had just paid you only made him all the more determined to shower you with compliments. He vowed that as long as you were in his life, he would not go a single day without complimenting you, without letting you know how incredible he found you.
“Um, I might just sit here for a bit and appreciate the paintings if you’d like to join,” you said, gesturing towards the bench that was just behind the two of you.
Din nodded and followed you to the bench, making sure that he sat close to you and pressed his body against yours. Din positioned himself so that your legs, arms and thighs were touching as you sat on the bench. He was not putting much weight on you, but it was an indication of how close he wanted to get you, and how attracted he felt to you. You were pulling him into your orbit, perhaps without realising it.
“It’s nice to be able to sit here and look at the paintings without a thousand tourists with their phones blocking your view. I mean, I know the sunflowers are the most popular but there is also the painting of the crabs here. I love the textures and colours. Plus that chair, it’s very much like those found in one of my other favourite Van Gogh paintings: The Bedroom. I think the detailing on it shows a….”
Din was well aware that he was not able to contribute to your ramblings, even if he had possessed the knowledge to. He was distracted by the warm weight of your body against his own, the way his pulse quickened just being in this proximity to you. His gaze flitted to your lips, looking so kissable in the shade of lipstick that perfectly complimented your outfit that you had chosen. Din was aware that you were still speaking about your love for the beautiful artworks before you, but your voice seemed distant somehow.
Din knew that if he did what he wanted to and joined his lips to yours there would be no going back. Once he kissed you, it was inevitable that he would dedicate his entire life to you. You had already shown so many traits that he was attracted to with your patience, intelligence and kindness. If his lips claimed yours in a kiss, it would be like crossing the Rubicon, a point of no return.
Din sat there, so wrapped up in his thoughts that he failed to notice that you had stopped speaking. It wasn’t until you shook your head and looked away that Din was aware that he had completely zoned out and given you the misguided impression that he was uninterested in what you had to say.
“Sorry, I was boring you,” you shook your head and averted your gaze, clearly feeling embarrassed. Din felt awful.
“Not at all!” Din exclaimed.
“I know I can go on too much, I’m sorry if I–”
But Din cut your ramblings off, mid-sentence.
“Truthfully, I was just thinking about how much I want to kiss you right now…” Din confessed.
“Then kiss me. I can’t wait much longer,” you breathed.
“Is that what you really want? I mean…”
“Din! If you don’t kiss me already, I’m going to scream!”
Din nodded nervously and brought his arm up as he leaned in. He cupped your jaw in his strong hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb and marvelling at how soft your skin was. He hadn’t even kissed you yet, and already his breaths were so shallow that he feared he might pass out. Din paused a few inches from your face, staring at your lips until you closed your eyes and closed the final distance between you, his eyes squeezing shut as your soft, warm lips touched his.
Din had kissed people before. He had relished the uniquely intimate connection that came from joining one’s lips to another’s. It was something that had always set his heart racing and made him feel light-headed from the momentousness of such an occasion. Kissing you, though, was a different prospect entirely. It was as though every nerve ending in his body was suddenly on fire. The sensation of your lips together, his hand leaving your cheek to cradle the back of your head as the kiss deepened threatened to unleash something feral in Din that he was sure would be entirely inappropriate for a building as beautiful as the National Gallery.
“Um, wow,” you breathed after Din pulled away from the kiss.
Din smirked and raised an eyebrow, pleased that you had seemingly had the same reaction to the kiss as him.
“That was incredible,” you added, confirming the fact.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Din confessed, biting his lip lightly.
“I think I’ve wanted you to for even longer…”
“I’m new to… all of this, dating, you know. I mean, since Grogu, I haven’t felt able to just drop everything and go on dates,” Din explained, clasping his hands together and playing with his fingers, a sign of the nervousness he felt when talking about this. “I just wanted you to know that. I really enjoy spending time with you. I haven’t felt like this for… well, a long time, to be honest. You’re incredibly special and important to me, already, and I would love to spend more time with you.”
“Oh, Din,” you exhaled. “I… I don’t know what to say. Of course, I want to spend more time with you. I’m not very good at this either, I feel like with dating I always come off either too strongly or completely uninterested. But that day when, um, when I saw you at the museum… I was so upset that you were probably going to turn out to be a total creep like every other man I’ve ever given a tour to, because you were so handsome. When you were a complete gentleman it made things much more complicated. I don’t know how I focused on the tour!”
“I would never have guessed, you did a phenomenal job,” Din praised.
“Thank you,” you breathed. “I would love to see you again, as soon as possible. I’m um… I’m free all weekend, if that’s convenient for you.”
“So am I,” Din smiled. “I was thinking after leaving the museum, we could go for a drink somewhere together, if you have any recommendations.”
“Sounds perfect,” you breathed.
Din leaned in for another kiss. Now that that particular barrier had been broken, he was going to make a point of stealing as many kisses from your lips as possible. As your soft lips moved against his and he cupped your cheeks with his hands, Din knew that kissing you like this was something he would never tire of. When you eventually pulled away for some much-needed air, Din leaned his forehead against yours and the two of you smiled shyly, giggling breathlessly as you relished your newfound closeness.
“I’m so lucky our paths crossed,” Din sighed.
For a moment, it was so easy to forget about how exactly your paths had first crossed. The fact that Din had seen you and began to feel things for you long before you ever knew it. Din felt a pang of guilt at the gravity of the secret he was keeping from you, but then he reminded himself of all the reasons this was important. Din had no doubts that you were an honourable, trustworthy person, but there was no way he could sacrifice the privacy and security of his son at this early stage. Din consoled himself in that moment by reminding himself that he had never knowingly lied to you. This was your first date, after all, he reminded himself to live in the moment and to stop thinking several steps ahead. One day, you would know the truth, one day.
✯ ✯ ✯
As Din gazed across the table at you, your elbow resting on the immaculate wooden surface and your hand cupping your chin slightly as you threw your head back in laughter, he was completely captivated by your effortless beauty. You were giggling at a memory Din was sharing of his time as a stuntman, albeit with the story attributed to a non-existent friend to avoid revealing that he worked in the film industry. The bar that you had found was underground and dimly lit, save for the lamps that sat on every table. It was modelled after a prohibition-era speakeasy and it was no surprise to Din that you had suggested it, given your passion for history.
After you had left the museum, Din and you held hands and walked briskly through the cooling London evening. It was still reasonably warm, mercifully summer had finally arrived but compared to the thin clothes that both of you had set out in, the temperature had significantly dropped. Luckily, the bar was well-heated despite being located underground. There was ambient jazz music playing and the buzz of people enjoying their Friday nights with prohibition-themed cocktails.
Din had swapped stories with you, the two of you learning more details about the others’ lives. Din found that he was surprisingly adept at obscuring the truth and removing key identifying features of his anecdotes. There was so much of his life, including the fact that he was a real Mandalorian, that he had to hide from you. But there was an equal amount that he could share, even if told from a slightly different perspective. Din loved hearing about your life too, your hopes, fears and dreams. He thought that you were one of the most interesting people that he had ever met, even if there was an occasional air of insecurity to you that he struggled to understand, given all of your talents.
Din smiled as he watched you stand up from the table and walk to the bathroom. You were still as stunning, even in the dim lights of the bar. His good mood did not last though when he pulled out his phone to pass the time in your absence and noticed, with a frown, that there was a new text from Jim.
Din’s heart sank when he read the message notification on his lockscreen:
Hi Din, Sorry for the late notice but you are needed on set tomorrow for pickups. Promise we will make it up to you next week. Jim
Din threw his head back and sighed. The promise of a free weekend, especially when he desperately needed one, had been cruelly snatched away from him. The vow that he had made to you in the museum that you would meet up again this weekend now looked set to be broken. It was not going to be the nicest end to a first date, to let you down due to a last-minute work commitment. Din sighed, showing his frustration over how unfair this all was.
His heart sank further when you returned from the bathroom and the first words out of your mouth were attempting to arrange another time to meet up this weekend.
“I was thinking tomorrow, maybe we could meet up at this park near me, perhaps you can bring Grogu?” You suggested after you slid into the booth opposite Din. “I think there’s a play area, he’d probably love it.”
“I’m so sorry to let you down like this… I can’t. My boss just texted me and told me that I’m needed at work tomorrow,” Din sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m so sorry, I really wanted to spend time with you.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” you looked down dejectedly. “What about Sunday?”
“I think the disruption to Grogu’s routine of me going to work tomorrow will mean that I should probably spend the day with him on Sunday, to make sure that he’s alright,” Din replied apologetically. “Look, I’m so sorry about this. It’s not personal at all, but Grogu… he is my only priority. I have to do what’s best for him and an entire weekend of his routine being disrupted… it would be too much for him. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Din winced at the disappointment he saw in your eyes, at how despondent and let-down you looked. He knew that he would make it up to you, he was a man of his word. He only hoped that you would give him a chance to.
“Okay, Din,” you smiled weakly. “Um, look, I should probably start heading home soon before the tube stops running.”
“Well, I was thinking we could stay a little longer. You could get a ride home in the car with me if you’d like?”
“Thanks for the offer but I know my route back home and I’m happy to take it,” you replied and Din felt uneasy at how distant you suddenly seemed to be, as though you were withdrawing from him and retreating into your shell.
“Okay,” Din breathed. “Let me get the bill.”
Din hailed a waiter and paid for both of your drinks, on a company credit card, another perk of the job. Then the two of you slid out of the booth and made your way back up to street level, feeling rather like two moles that had just emerged from their holes after spending many months underground. Din was astonished that it was approaching midnight, all sense of time seemed to have vanished in the basement bar.
“I had a wonderful night with you,” Din said as he offered you his arm, which you took, looping your hand through his arm and resting your hand on his toned bicep. “I really am sorry about this weekend. Work said they will make it up to me, so I should be able to ensure that this does not happen again next weekend. Are you free then?
“I should be, yeah,” you smiled and Din felt relieved that your demeanour had lightened somewhat. “I was just a little shocked, it felt a little personal,”
“No, never,” Din said, stopping in the street and shaking his head definitively as he looked into your eyes, hoping that you sensed how much he had enjoyed your evening together. “I meant everything I said in the museum, you are incredibly important to me.”
Maybe it was the slight buzz from the alcohol, or maybe it was the way you were currently gazing at Din, but he suddenly felt a little lightheaded as you finally arrived outside the station.
“Thank you for this incredible evening, Din,” you smiled, as the two of you stood facing each other just outside the entrance to the tube station. “See you next weekend?”
“See you next weekend,” Din nodded. “I’ll text you in the week.”
Then, Din felt his pulse quicken as you closed the distance to him and pulled him into another kiss. It was more intimate this time, with your hands resting on his shoulders as his hands moved to the back of your head. The kiss was probably slightly more passionate than was appropriate for such a public place, but the cocktails and the intoxicating buzz that came from being around you meant that Din did not remotely care.
“Goodnight, Din,” you whispered against his lips after pulling away from the embrace, before turning and walking into the station.
Din stood there for a few minutes in your wake, fixed to the spot even after he had watched you disappear into the tube station. He could not bring himself to move, as though this spot where you had just kissed provided some tangible connection to you that lingered even after you were gone. Din wanted time to hurry up so that he could be in your presence again, knowing that the rest of the week would feel dull and unimaginative compared to the vibrant, inspiring few hours that he had just spent with you.
Din Djarin had often wondered what falling in love would feel like. He had long since given up on the hope that he would ever experience such an emotion.
Yet the butterflies in his stomach and smile that he still wore across his face, even after you were no longer at his side, suggested that he might just be on his way to finding out.
Next Chapter
Taglist: @toxic-seduction @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing
#my fics#tbobw#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#the mandalorian x reader#mando x reader#mando x you#the mandalorian fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
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Hey you~ YES YOU PRETTY PERSON ❤️
I was reading your stuff and see that wasn't nothing about my best baby boy in blue??? Like,wha- he didn't survive the prison dimension for nothing y'know?
Sooo,why not ask about him??
I making a fic with this troupe and i'd love to see another's person writing this so.
Rise Leo x reader....
*Dramatic pause of course*
Enemies to lovers
Yes baby,my favorite type!
The scenario? Well...she is a new villain in New York with some unsolved things with draxum,wanna make him pay for past stuff and all. The turtles find out about it and of course go protect their dad for abvious reasons and when they find the reader,they are more sassy and flamboyant than Leo lol.
Reader is a menance (villain arc goes brrr) but at some point (probably on the kraang invasion) they helped the turtles noticing their feelings for Leo and kinda confess or sum?
Damm. This is kinda of a big request, sorry for that lol
A/N: I adore this concept more than you can possibly know. As soon as this chapter is posted, I will be reading up everything you have on it. It just sounds so fun!(I didn't read it b4 hand cause I didn't want to accidently copy smth. Hope it still fits lol) Kinda took the post Kraang part and ran with it tbh. Also, in my defense, I have like 5 Leo WIPs rn, I just haven't gotten around to finishing them. But this seemed like the best 1st Leo post I could ever make, so it got major priority. And thanks for referring to me as pretty person! It made me so happy and I almost didn't want to answer this 'cause I just liked to re-read this ask a lot. I'm sorry it's so bad, I was really tired and wanted to get something out quick. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.
Warnings: Post-Movie, mentions of kraang, Leo being bandaged and wounded, bad writing.
Words: 1325
Summary: It's two weeks after the Kraang invasion, and you haven't seen Leo since.
I stare down at the broken city, disappointed with the destruction the Kraang brought with them. Sure, I wasn’t exactly what could be called a stand-up citizen, but this was my home too. It had been two weeks since the Kraang invasion, two weeks since I had fought alongside the people I had known as enemies, two weeks since I had last seen them alive. After the Kraang ship exploded and the portal closed, I hadn’t seen any of the turtles or their friends. Not that I’m worried of course. They were all resilient, able to survive everything thrown at them thus far. Even if they weren’t okay, I was a villain and they were heroes. Something happening to them would just be a relief to the constant thorn in my side they insist on being. I couldn’t start caring about them, not now. No matter how much I was worried.
I turned around, facing away from the broken city. Repairs had started, but it would take a long time. People were missing, buildings had fallen, and morale had gone down. After all, an alien invasion wasn’t something even New York could instantly bounce back from. We would heal, but it would take months, even years. I start to head back to my home, jumping across the rooftops when I can and using the fire escapes on others. It was calming, the wind brushing against my face as I ran. I avoid the remaining rubble and the broken glass littering the rooftops, not wanting to slice open my legs.
I take a running jump, feeling myself being suspended in the air before gravity takes hold once more. Shifting my weight, I crouch down as I land, trying to lessen the impact on my still bruised legs. I use the momentum from the landing to shoot myself forwards, laughing as I feel the wind against my face. I get ready to make the next jump, my arms swinging backwards to help gain the right momentum, but I falter when I hear a voice in the distance. Leo’s voice. Slowing down, my arms sticking out to the sides as I try to not fall, my head snaps over to where I heard his voice. I knew I shouldn’t care, why did it matter that I heard him? We were enemies, I hated him, and he hated me. Right? I ignore my screaming brain, walking forwards and peering over the edge of the roof.
There they were, the four turtles and their human friends. Gross. I let out a grimace, watching as they waited in the alley, 3 pizza boxes in the orange ones arms. I continue to scan over them out of curiosity, trying to find Leo. His brothers were all there, having minimal damage done to them(Except the red one, but I already figured his shell wasn’t the only thing damaged the last I saw him.) I kept seeing basic glances of Leo, but the red one was blocking my view. I huff in frustration, moving along the edge of the roof to try and see him better. I could hear him just fine, but I wanted to see him.
I jump to a slightly lower building, keeping in the shadows so they don’t notice me. I had no idea why I cared so much, but I felt like I needed to see Leo. I wanted to make sure he was safe too. I duck down farther behind the ledge of the rooftop, the entrance to Run Of The Mill opening as someone stepped out. A very goat-like purple yōkai, stepped out. I groan, grimacing as I look at Baron Draxum. I let out a huff of air, frustrated. I give up on staying behind to check on Leo. I heard his loud voice, so he was probably fine.
I keep quiet as I climb up a building, leaping across the residential and commercial buildings. If I really wanted to, I could just cause chaos in a few weeks to make sure they all showed up. But right now? Right now I just wanted to sleep. I jump onto a building with a wider roof, looking across the skyline. The broken city still managed to be beautiful, the people on the ground scurrying to be wherever they were needed. I hear a small thud behind me, my ears picking up the familiar pattering of footsteps. I continued to scan the horizon, pretending I was oblivious to the figure behind me. I grip my knife and shift my weight slightly, waiting until the perpetrator was in range. Once I could hear the breath of the person, I turned around, sweeping their legs from under them and holding a knife to their throat.
The attacker lets out a small yelp and a groan as they hit the ground, a shaky smile on their green face as they look up at me. It was Leo. I quickly get off of him, pulling him up with me as I put my knife back into its sheath on my side. I take in his appearance, my mouth pressing into a tight line as I notice his bandages. His carapace was completely wrapped up, as well as most of his platron. Different bandage wraps were scattered all over him, covering most of his scaly skin from sight.
“What happened to you?” I ask, a small frown on my face. Leo’s smile never drops, pulling me into a tight hug.
“I missed you too! You know, it’s been so boring without you stirring up trouble every other day.” Leo pulls back from the hug, a hand on each of my shoulders as he shakes me lightly, mock disappointment on his features. “You disappeared before my grand finale! You didn’t even get to see how awesome I was! You are one cruel, cruel frenemy, you know that?”
I roll my eyes, batting his hands off my shoulders. “Oh please, I had more important things to do. Like, oh I don’t know, making sure Kraang minions didn’t kill a bunch of people?” I jut my hip out, looking Leo up and down again. “Seriously though, what happened after I left?”
“Aww, does someone care?” Leo teases, a smug grin on his face. My frown deepens, knowing I shouldn’t be upset he was wounded. I shouldn’t care. I should be ecstatic he got hurt, the only thing I should be upset about is that he wasn’t knocked out of commission. We were enemies, they were friends of Draxum.
I turn around, trying to ignore the hole of despair growing in my chest. He was covered in so many bandages, new scars covering his visible skin. I felt sick just looking at him. Would he have been fine if I stayed? If I didn’t rush off? I couldn’t think of it right now, not wanting to come to terms with the fact that I cared for him.
Leo grabs my arm before I can jump to the next roof, pulling me back and putting his hands back on my shoulders, keeping me in place. “Hey, what’s gotten into you? Are you okay?” His voice is soft and his eyes are full of concern. It all just makes me feel worse. “You’re usually spitting back one liners and being all sarcastic, did something happen?”
I look back at Leo, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I try to figure out how to explain what I was feeling. I sigh, pulling Leo in for a hug, being careful not to put too much pressure on any of his wounds. I assumed I did a good job, as Leo just laughed and hugged me tighter against him. “It’d just be really inconvenient if something happened to you. You can’t just leave me with your brothers, they're boring.”
Leo laughs at that, pulling away from the hug with a dopey grin on his face. “I knew you cared.”
#rottmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise leo#tmnt leo#leonardo#rottmnt leo#tmnt fanfic#this is dumb#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt#I tried#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader#tmnt x reader#rottmnt x reader#rottmnt leo x reader#rise leo x reader#leo x reader#fanfic#leo fanfic#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles
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Drifting Stars Masterlist
I have never made a post like this, I have no clue what I'm doing, let's go!
SO, drifting stars is one of the best Gravity Falls au's in my unprofessional opinion. But unfortunately, fanfictions are hard to come by, not to mention finished ones. But lucky for you I have way too much time on my hands and have managed to hunt down all drifting stars fanfics on Ao3 that I can find and make one masterpost of all the ones I think are worth your time.
This is gonna be in a general order of least favourite to favourite.
I’m Afraid of the Dark (But I’m Obsessed with Ideas) by TiredWriter810. - oneshot, 910 words, 1/?
So far there's only one of these oneshots and due to what I'm calling The Drifting Stars Curse, I have doubts that there will be any more. I thought it was cute, it's quick so there's not much plot but it has potential.
Ten Years by FullmetalReborn - standalone, 9 753 words, 2/?
This takes place after Mabel and Ford get back, which is one of my favourite concepts. It focuses on Dipper and Mabels relationship and is very realistic in that sense. Despite what the chapters say, this one is finished, or at least ends on a note that can be considered finished.
A Broken Star by Aceofstars16 - oneshot, 1 401 words, 1/1
This one was also set after Mabel and Ford get back and focuses on their relationship, it was just really sweet. It was a little cliché and almost too much for me in terms of comfort (that’s on me guys, in reality it’s not that much I just have issues) but still deserves to be on this list.
Stars Aren't the Only Things That Glitter by NovelistServant - oneshots, 10 465 words, 4/4
These are written really well, the first one is by far the best but the others are still worth a read. This one is finished since they are oneshots but unfortunately leave you wanting more. But again, the first one is amazing.
An Encounter While Breaking Out of Prison by amadscientistapproaches - 2nd part of a series, 10 074 words, 2/4
This fanfic is not entirely a drifting stars one and is a crossover with Dimension Jumper AU where an oc that I have mixed feelings about is introduced. This part specifically does not mention her but if that au is your thing then read the first part before this one. I just loved the writing style and the whole prison chaos.
OSAS - Main Story, Prologues, Epilogues, and More by LesbianLucretia - series (3 parts), 24 890 words, 1/1, 1/1, 4/?
This one is different to the stereotypical drifting stars idea and I was so there for it, it's nice to see people being creative since it is the multiverse and anything can hadplen. Essentially Mabel doesn't find Ford and has to survive by herself for some amount of years before finding him. The last story got me hooked and I wanted very badly to see how Ford and Mabel's relationship developed but of course, the curse.
What Matters More by RamblesandDragons - oneshot, 3 067 words, 1/1
I loved this oneshot, it was well written and just generally had a good storyline. It's stereotypical in the sense that something bad happens to Mabel but I dont care I still liked it. I feel like the ending could have been done better but don't let that put you off of reading it.
A Shooting Star May Fall by Yatzstar - standalone, 29 479 words, 8/?
This was actually really good, and somewhat adorable. The plotline had so much potential with Bill and everything, there was a level of the story there that I haven't seen before yet alone considered when it comes to drifting stars. It does end on a cliffhanger but there are still some really good Mabel and Ford bonding scenes throughout so do check it out.
Mabel's Guide to The Multiverse by PresidentStalkeyes - oneshot, 6 545 words, 1/1
I loved this. I loved this so much. It was so awesome and written in a way that just makes it so much cooler and more interesting. I love the idea of Mabel getting her hands on a camera and Ford doing his best at being a good uncle. It was just so unexpectedly good.
Drifting Stars by the_subpar_ghost - standalone, 33 003 words, 15/?
This. This is the fic that started it all. This is the fic that I read in two nights and then cried over because it's not finished. Not only did it start it all but it's also just so good. Even if it wasn't the og I would still put it high up on this list. I owe everything to the_subpar_ghost.
Senior Season by orphan_account - standalone, 85 549 words, 18/29
I have no words for this. I would die for this fanfiction, everything about it is just *chefs kiss*. The characterisation of Mabel and Ford, the funny little quotes and comments the two make, everything they do when they travel around the multiverse just showing how long they've been out there. It even mentions things I have never heard mentioned ever in a fanfiction. It's so honest and funny and addicting and I would jump in front of a bullet to save this fanfiction. The cliffhanger does suck but I found it somewhat bearable since I can kinda see where it ends up going. But this is it, this is the fic that outshines them all.
I legally cannot have an opinion on these last ones since I haven't finished/started reading them but I'll put them here anyway.
Ad Astra by Queen_Mab - standalone, 103 406 words, 18/?
So far, I think this fic is good. The story is well developed and so are some of the characters which is more I can say for a lot of fanfictions I have read in my lifetime. I am only on chapter 9 so I still have a fair bit left but Mabel is just so adorable in this and there is a lot going on back at Gravity Falls and I'm so into it.
The Drifting Star by Booblybaba - standalone, 35 337 words, 15/?
So I have not started reading this one yet but when I came across it I checked the ending to see if it was on a cliffhanger and if I should bother reading it. Lo and behold, it ended on a cliffhanger, but I still have hopes for this since the writing style looks really good and with that many chapters there's sure to be some good Ford and Mabel content.
So yeah! Feel free to add any fanfics I might have missed. I don't mean to offend anyone, this is just what I personally thought while reading some these and if you disagree then that's fine.
Also there's a part two of this list now, whaaaat?!?!??!
#unless you disagree with senior season#if you think senior season is bad i will break your kneecaps#jokes ofc#gravity falls#au#gravity falls au#drifting stars au#portal au#gravity falls fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#ao3#ao3 fanfic#fanfic rec#mabel pines#ford and mabel bonding#ford pines#portal mabel#portal ford#masterpost#masterlist#text post#my text
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I just finished reading Fool's Gold.
I feel an overwhelming amount of a myriad of emotions, and the need to put it all into words, imbued with the certainity that I will never find the words to express the true depth of what I feel, nor will there ever be a time when what I have to say will even begin to tell you just how much gravity and meaning this story holds.
nevertheless, I will try.
rpf rids you of the difficulty of creating a character - it gives you a name, face, quirks that make them true to their person, a life and circumstances, and above it all the freedom to do with that what you will. this often comes with the cost of your characters, who are real people, becoming mere puppets of a story, vessels intended to tell it.
to be able to tell a story that has never happened as you wish to tell it, centred around people that very much breathe, live, and exist all while making them true to their own person is no easy task. and yet you've done it so irreproachably. you've somehow painstakingly, and impeccably struck a balance between creating a world for them, whilst still writing an ode to them as real people.
I went into Fool's Gold wary of the tags, staunchly believing you couldn't convince me of many of the things you had implied. I understand now. there wasn't a single sentence that I didn't believe with my full heart.
my simple mind couldn't even begin comprehending how you managed to weave such an intricate, riveting plot. there's not a single thing you didn't think of. every sentence you wrote felt like it was thought out and decided well before any of these people or these events happened. everytime I thought I knew what was happening, you very artfully reminded, I in fact, did not.
you had such generously fleshed out stories and love for every character that I couldn't help but wonder how you could conclude so very many relationships in a sensible way. nevertheless I trusted you to write an epilogue that would be delicate, sensible and bittersweet, much like most meaningful stories.
having read the last chapter, beginning the epilogue confused me. and then i was fraught with anger. what of the stories you told me before ? what of them ? and then as i continued to read, i felt as if i had been doused with water, not the kind that leaves you shaking and spluttering, but the gentle kind a mother bestows upon her child - with care and love, and in some parts the feeling that times will not always be like this. suddenly I wanted to be nowhere but where you had taken me, hear no other story than the one you were telling in that moment. and just like that, it was over.
thank you, with everything in me, thank you.
i don't really have words to properly articulate myself, but thank you. fool's gold will always be special to me in many ways, and allowed me to engage in F1 in a way far beyond how i'd been doing so for years prior.
it has its flaws and there are parts people hate about it (including the epilogue lol) and there are a lot of things i would improve in the fic, but the joy of fanfic for me is that it is what it is, raw and unpolished. FG really taught me a lot about myself and opened a lot of doors for me that would be firmly shut if i hadn't accepted a $5 venmo for coffee from my dear friend who wanted me to write my crazy rpf idea.
i'd never written rpf before FG and wow did it change my whole opinion on rpf 😂 f1 rpf is still the wild west in many ways but i LOVE writing my messed up takes on these guys who i have no clue about irl 😂😂😂
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Places To Support Me!
Want to read the next chapter of Hiraeth right now, or investigate the drafts of next five chapters? Want to read Gravity from start to finish, or plumb the depths of numerous other draft projects long before they go up on AO3?
You can either join the community (totally free!) to get access to dozens of short stories and previews, or pledge to my Patreon (FREE TRIALS also available!)
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Chapter 2: Ninor
Sooooo wanted to clear up the other end of this for my own sake, andddd i wrote. some nerd shit. If you get lost, sorry, I likea da worldbuilding (ask me what i mean if you want), if you like it, you're insane and I love you. probably won't be necessary to read for the plot but thinking about writing it from two sides, at least at first.
If you wanna be on the taglist, lemme know! so if you wanna be off it! I'm so new and not sure how to do this but let me know what to do and I promise I'll be nice! <3
Taglist (aka people who seemed interested):
@hollewdz @awkwardgtace @clumsiestgiantess <3
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Ninor knew she couldn't perform with an audience. That went for anyone, from curious servants to Tidbit and Titus, whose cage she often had to cover with a workcloth or put in the cupboard. And this was much worse than a few servants or mice. behind her on a gilded throne, carried by robed thralls, the King of Blood sat, flanked by his advisors and nobles, with a phalanx of Blood Shields, the kingsguard, forming a shield wall between her and the king. Hard to work a concentration spell with the most powerful group of people in the known world watching.
She was getting to the trickiest part of the spell now. Her eyes glowed purple and lightning crackled through the witch-salt runes on the floor in front of her. She wondered if the king approved of this display. He'd always been against wizardry and magic in general unless he could control it, and the magic she was doing here didn't appear very easily controllable.
Stay focused, she reprimanded herself. Just finish this stanza, open the gate, summon a spirit, that's it. Not too hard to summon the spirit of a Great One, but to flag down just the spirit was harder.
Runes arched through the air out of her hands, nimble and practiced, splitting space and reality, cutting a whole in the dimensional fabric of the universe. She continued, brow shining with sweat, chanting words only she knew in the language of the spirits, calling on the mind and soul, chanting faster and faster. Now for the hard part. Choosing a spirit and rejecting its body. Wish I knew how strong the body was before I choose an entity.
She finished the last line of the stanza, guttural vowels cut by sharp consonants. Now was the time.
She closed her eyes as the runes around her shook with vibrant electricity, slowly fading as the clock started ticking. Ninor knew her time was limited. Time to choose a spirit. She reached forward, eyes closed to avoid going mad before she allowed her astral form to be sucked into the spirit realm.
A warm void, movement, lack of gravity, and many whispers beyond comprehension. A familiar feeling in her stomach, she'd been here many times before. Searching, she reached out, parsing out a carefully planned request in her mind, a servant spirit for the king, one not rebellious yet incredibly powerful. One to know their place, to be dominated, to subjugate for yet another subjugator.
The spirits murmured, responding to the request with each their own response. Disgust, eagerness, confusion, laughter, and a push and pull of emotions rocked her to her core. With ifinite spirits weighing a request, such an ask must be believed with incredible willpower and concentration to succeed. And as she cast her spell into the great beyond, she felt a sliver of doubt, conscience, whatever you'd call a hesitation enter her mind. This isn't right.
She felt her spell begin to fail. The spirits became agitated, infinite whispers became infinite noise, yelling, howling to be chosen, to be released. She threw up an abjurative shielding spell, it shattered instantly, ripping holes in the spirit realm itself. She felt the energy of undefined quantities of power spill into countless dimensions as spirits and wraiths spun out of control around her. I have to choose one and get put of here! She summoned a rune-rope, a lasso of purple-blue energy, sending it past the hurricane of spirits for any reasonably tame spirit. As she did so, she watched in horror as the loop of light sailed straight through one of the dimensional rifts that her failed shield had created, and felt it attach to something on the other end. She screamed in panic and, at a loss for cognitive function, ejected herself from the spirit realm entirely, dragging whatever she'd caught with her. Please let it be a scary yet good-natured great one, she thought, I know It probably isn't but it'd be real nice if it was! She slammed back into her own body, skidding out of the spell circle, rune-rope in hand, watching as a portal of glowing yellow light opened and a shadow quickly appeared, bearing down on the opening.
Last chance to try and close the portal, she thought, glancing at the King of Blood, sat bolt upright in his throne, eyes hungry for the coming servant he had ordered. In the watching of the king, Ninor realized one thing. If I cancel the summoning, I would've been better off letting the spirits tear my mind apart. All she could do now is hope for he best.
"M-my liege, may I present to you, your spirit, vengeful and f-furious as the dawn, to be chained at your feet, to b-be your hand and sword, your-" A throbbing pulsing sound distracted her from her unglamorous showboating as the assembled crowds eyes grew as large as dinner plates. Oh shi-
In seconds, the portal grew to the entire height of the great hall, slamming into the roof with a mighty crack, becoming enormous just in time for a towering figure to shoot past her at staggering speeds missing her by inches, flying into the opposite wall with a sickening crunch.legs were the last to leave the portal, and with the head having hit a wall with near enough force to break right through it, the knees had nowhere to go but along the bend of the hips' fulcrums, straight up.
The ceiling shattered in a cascade of gold shards and mosaic tiles, covering the room in dust and shrapnel. Shards of ceramics rained down upon the group, the guards moving their shields to protect the king and his retinue, leaving Ninor to fend for herself. She grasped at her belt, whipping up a figure of the protection goddess and channeling as much mana as she could, barely getting the shield up in time. To protect her from the barrage of projectiles that cracked the flood and dented the guard's shields.
The dust hung thick in the air, though the tension of the room was held thicker. She couldn't see the king through the many rectangular shields held aloft between them, but she saw the looks the guards and nobles gave her. The chief advisor approached the golden throne, and whispering could be heard over the echoes of still-falling debris.
She hung her head waiting for the verdict, preparing for the worst. I've really done it now. Well, here we go. the nobles and the king were escorted out of the room, leaving only the kings advisor and four blood guards flanking both his sides.
"In the summoning of this... thing, you've made a fool and a lair of yourself. The king is furious, and you are in the most peril you could be in at this very moment. The future of that achieved status is dependent on your answer, so be very careful how you respond."
His eyes burned through hers, and she felt her heart might give out from its efforts.
"When the king asked you for a spirit, he meant something controllable, that he could subjugate, that would stand imposingly beside him when he gave a speech or christened a ship. You've brought him a monster the size of this building. do you understand the adverse effect brought on by the size of this... thing, in comparison to the king? Less intimidating, more a dwarfing of our nations leader. You are smart, so you understand that this is unfortunate for all of us, most of all you, correct?"
His voice, though ice cold, picked up more and more of a deathly venom as he spat admonishing warnings at her.
"So my question to you is this, think carefully on your answer. you may be in the most peril in the kingdom right now, but that doesn't mean it cannot get worse. Can you, or can you not, twist this and make it work with the kingdom, instead of directly against it?"
His words echoed around the hall, a drop of spittle clinging to his ruffled white collar as he yelled, bright red, eyes boiling.
"Y-yes." She whimpered, barely a squeak.
His rage subsided considerably, back to its old venom, dangerous but appeased for now, and the guards turned to open the doors at his gesture as he called out once more.
"Good. We don't care how you do it, just make it viable!"
The door slammed behind him, sounding for all the world as a coffin lid closing in a tomb.
#g/t#giant/tiny#g/t writing#g/t community#writing#ninor#whough advisor is a dick#didnt expect to have him pop off like that yet lol but hey#assholes gotta...ass? idk#anyway gimme advice! love criticism when its given nice
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Kagome’s time between worlds. Drabble collection for @inukag-week 2023 ☆
Chapter 7/7 – Smile: Kagome comes home.
Tags: The One with the Chapter/Episode Retelling
Word Count: 700 (Heptadrabble)
《 Previous〡Next 》
A/N below the cut ☆
Kagome’s fingers slipped away, and with her last leap of faith came her final wish – that she’d look like her mother when she was older.
Her heart crept up her throat while her stomach stayed behind. Time cushioned her fall, bathed her in shimmering light and slowly, gravity returned. Stone and packed earth became corporeal again, and Kagome was left standing at the bottom of the bone-eaters well, five-hundred years in the past.
She grinned and looked up. The climb was tough, that much she remembered, and she positioned her feet to pull herself up and leave the world she’d been born into behind.
One year for every day spent inside the jewel was long enough to know that while her prospects were bright, she felt enormously bleak, and her family knew, from the lack of what comes next. They’d flowed around her like a stone in a river, hoping the passage of time would dislodge her; she could be polished like her lacquer but still preferred the remnants of dirt under her nails.
There would be no right time. There was only time, and what she chose to do with it.
She’d wanted both, so asked for neither and accepted where she’d been assigned to; where fear of the unknown kept her hostage. She lathered and rinsed, but Kagome was stuck on repeat, taunted by dreams of choosing the wrong path, and she should've known where she belonged when she sought where life had taken them, and couldn’t bear to know if she wasn’t there to witness it.
The thought that Inuyasha might not be there occurred, but she crushed it as assuredly as she climbed because they were cut from the same cloth, and she knew he’d stubbornly rebuild the village Naraku had so callously destroyed. It was impossible to know what waited for her, but she raced towards it like it was the only finish line worth crossing.
Too much went unsaid, and she’d be damned if she didn’t get the chance to tell him.
He’d taught her so much. That she didn’t have to smile just to please others, to trust her intuition. That she was powerful enough to fight anything coming her way. To stand up for those who couldn’t do it for themselves. What true strength and kindness is.
That sometimes, choosing your heart – human, demon or otherwise – was the most courageous path a person could take.
Was it so selfish to want to see a man like that again?
That question, she decided, was only hers to determine, and she wasn’t afraid of the answer anymore.
Slippery vines aided and hindered her ascent, and her legs started to shake the closer she came to cerulean skies. A hand appeared in front of her face, and her eyes crossed. Calloused, claw-tipped fingers flexed, she grabbed on, and in a blink, she was hauled from its mouth to come face to face with the man she needed to see again.
"Inuyasha! I’m so sorry," she said, tears springing to her eyes, "were you waiting for me?"
"Kagome…" He looked the same, yet entirely different, and he gave her no time to admire that before he yanked and she flew forward, straight into his arms. "You idiot," he said, shrouding her in his sleeves, "what took you so long?"
She had so much to say, no idea where to start, and from the glint in his eyes, he felt the same.
How silly of her, to think destiny had been fulfilled, that she’d have to settle, be grateful, and condemn herself to a life of what-ifs.
Voices rang from afar, drawing her attention. Sango, Miroku, Shippo, and three little faces she didn’t know but would recognise anywhere appeared, and she looked back at Inuyasha, smiling as brightly as the gold staring back.
Her duty to the past had been fulfilled. She wound back the clock, brought back the jewel, destroyed it, then mended it, all so she could say she’d destroyed it again and lived to tell the tale.
Miraculously, despite all that, and in the face of it, she even managed to graduate.
But she had a different purpose now.
And his name was Inuyasha.
Fin
Read it on AO3 ▶
Of course, she chose him! Kagome’s the main character! And the story’s called Inuyasha!
For those interested, this chapter falls loosely between Chapters 3 & 4 of Homecoming, which starts with Inuyasha’s POV during the 3-year separation ❤
Thanks again to @inukag-week for reviving this universe!
ttyl bbs 🤸
#Limerence#kagome#kagome higurashi#inuyasha x kagome#inukag week 2023#inukag week#inukag fanfic#inuyasha fanfiction#fanfiction#inuyasha#heptadrabble#anisaanisaff
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finirà bene - an Astarion/Dark Urge/Halsin time travel redux
Summary: At the very moment of the Absolute's defeat, Astarion opens his eyes to find himself amidst familiar burning wreckage, face-to-face with a Shadowheart who has no knowledge of their companion, the dragonborn Kelis. Stuck in this familiar-unfamiliar situation, Astarion will have to reforge alliances alone as he seeks to make his way out of this nightmare, and find his missing partner(s).
Pairing: endgame Astarion/Dark Urge/Halsin, with a primary in-fic focus on Astarion/Halsin (as Kelis is busy haunting the narrative).
Reposting because I'm very proud of the new banner - Kelis artwork done by @somespareserotonin-please - and because I haven't had a proper masterpost up yet.
Prologue and Chapter 1 are up on AO3, and I'll put them here for anyone who prefers to read that way. Chapter 2 is finished - 5k words! - and in the process of final editing and formatting to post here and on AO3, probably tomorrow at the latest.
I'd love to hear your thoughts, and hope you enjoy the journey as much as I do! ^^
Prologue: alone in the world
The din of battle fades out in patches, his ears ringing as the world swims before his eyes, dizzying colors erupting and obscuring the pitted surface of the nautiloid around him. Staggering to the side, he focuses on catching his balance, running his gloved hand along the gaps in his armor, looking for any puncture wounds carrying poison he didn’t notice.
Not now, not like this. The thought whispers through his mind like the frenzied beat of a drum. After everything they have battled through to reach this point, to survive it together, surely this cannot be the end, not when their true enemy is so close to defeat.
Through the spots encroaching further into his vision, and the strangely warped perspective the world around him is taking on, he casts about for Kelis, separated from him by the tide of battle for some time now.
At last, he sees them, far too close to the Brain for any comfort, near death though it is beginning to seem. Perhaps that is only wishful thinking, but — surely, surely it must be nearly defeated.
Their owlbear form seems somehow larger than he’s ever seen it, magnificent and ferocious. With a resonant shriek that builds from their chest and erupts into the air around them, they jump up toward the stormy sky above, body tilting down gracefully at the apex of their leap in preparation to bring the full force of gravity down with them on the target of their final strike — that wretched, hateful Crown.
He bares his teeth in wild, bloodsoaked joy, ready for this months-long nightmare to be over, but the world will not allow him more than this moment. As Kelis’s claws make contact with the sickening glow of the Crown’s gems, the warping that had faded into the background, holding its breath like everyone else in the battle, rushes to life with redoubled intent, now eating through not only his vision, but seemingly the world itself.
The last image he has before all is overtaken by crackling brilliance is Kelis blinking out of existence — present one moment, and gone without a single discernible trace of a spell’s effect the next.
His unbeating heart twists in his chest, nausea filling his entire body.
Not now, not like this.
“Kelis! Ke-”
His words disappear in the space between breaths, and he himself follows suit.
For a moment, an empty crown glints in the waning sunlight, before it too fractures, cracks, and splinters away.
Across a starlit sky, a burning nautiloid hurtles toward the ground, its trajectory cut short by its impact with the riverbank.
Numerous eyes track its passage, and a multitude of forces and individuals set to devising their responses to this unexpected incursion.
On a grassy outcropping, one pod is ejected at a sharp angle, its surface breaking open and its captive launched forward against the grass.
A white-haired elf lies still among the rocks and silt, unbreathing, as the sun’s rays climb over the horizon, inching closer and closer to his unresponsive form.
“-lis! Kelis?” The world filters back in in discordant jumps and starts — but something isn’t right. Blinking his unaccountably heavy eyelids open against the blinding sun, many somethings are not right.
Behind him lies the burning wreckage of an all-too-recognizable nautiloid, flames still crackling hungrily amidst the ruins.
Dumbly, he springs to his feet and spins around as quickly as the vertigo wracking his body will allow, knowing what he is searching for even as a horrible certainty grows in him that he will not find it.
To the left: the sharp drop to the Chionthar, its brilliant blue water belying the nightmare he must be inhabiting.
To the right: more wreckage, an extremely distressed boar, and — a familiar figure, albeit with a hair color he is no longer used to. His mind catches on this detail for a moment before abandoning it for more pressing matters.
“Shadowheart! What things have come to that the sight of your dour visage brings me relief, of all things. Will wonders never cease!” His voice is overly cheery, perhaps a touch manic, but no one who truly matters is around to mention it, so he’ll grant himself a temporary allowance.
“Now, is this an illusion spell of some form? Do you know of any way to break it? As patient as I would love to be, time is very much of the essence, so a bit of alacrity would be greatly appreciated!”
Alright, perhaps a slightly less temporary allowance.
Unexpectedly, the cleric’s response is to take a sharp step backward, expression growing even more wary.
“How do you know my name? We have certainly not yet been introduced, to my knowledge.” Her voice is icy and biting, without even the edge of begrudging fondness that had begun growing there in the past weeks.
His face slackens for a moment, thoughts whirring through his mind almost faster than he can note them. Something is far more awry here even than he originally considered.
As quickly as he can, he runs through what he knows of spells that could achieve an effect as encompassing as this appears to be. There are not a great many, but of course a creature as unprecedented as the Nether Brain could have access to a multitude of unknown magics.
None of his senses are telling him that anything around him is untrue or fabricated, despite his mind screaming very much the opposite. The wind coming from the water carries with it the expected smells, and the creaks and groans of organic machinery breaking down into the flames is as he remembers from his first day of freedom.
Most damningly of all — everything about Shadowheart is exactly as he recalls from their first meeting, down to the very smell of her, in his experience the most difficult sense for any illusion spell to accurately replicate.
He switches tacks as smoothly as he can, pushing as far down as it will go the part of him that wants to start screaming, and perhaps never stop.
Pasting on the smile that charmed hundreds of Baldur’s Gate’s finest to their deaths, he draws himself up into a less alarming pose, that perhaps screams an iota less ‘I am about to break down and begin stabbing every thing in sight.’
“My deepest apologies; I have had some… dealings, shall we say, with your cohort in Baldur’s Gate before, and was pleased to encounter a familiar face in an area this… desolate.” The sneer on his face as he peers around theatrically is not at all difficult to manufacture.
“I had no idea you were on one of your Lady’s more sensitive missions. Rest assured I will abide by all due secrecy in the future.”
He closes his speech – marvelously tailored under so short a time constraint, as far as he is concerned – with a hand flourish and a tip of his head, telegraphing foppish carelessness with all his might, but in truth desperate for the opportunity to hide his face away, even for a moment. The battle to keep that part of him that wants to break down – in tears or in murder, it is impossible to say – in check is becoming more difficult by the moment.
After an artful pause, he casts his eyes up through his fringe, checking for the success of his fabrication.
Shadowheart’s frown deepens visibly for a moment, discomfited by something about his statement, before the tension lines in her face smooth out and she shifts into a more neutral, although still readied, position.
“Apology accepted, although you would certainly benefit from greater discretion in the future —particularly if you intend to continue your dealings. The Mother Superior does not tolerate failure, as you must know.”
He inclines his head once more before returning upright, smile coming much more naturally now as he submerges himself in his role.
“Of course! My deepest thanks for your helpful reminder and concern for my person.”
A dismissive scoff is her only response as she turns to survey the wreckage herself.
Seeing an opportunity, he ventures a question. “I saw you on the ship, I’m fairly certain. However did you escape from those wretched pods?”
“There was someone else up there, who helped free m-,” Her answer comes without hesitation at first, only to cut off abruptly as her brow furrows.
With furious and feral hope clawing its way up his chest, he interjects as intently as he dares, “There was someone else loose up there? Who? What did they look like?!”
After a moment, he tacks on a weak justification, attempting to play off his intensity, “They must have been impressive indeed, to free you from such a fate.”
She doesn’t pay his inconsistency any mind, eyes clouded as she continues looking over the wreckage, seemingly in search of something in particular.
After another long moment, she turns away with a firm shake of her head. “No… no, there was no one. My pod broke when the ship crashed, just as yours did, I presume.”
He barely keeps himself from pressing her, biting back the words trying to escape him as he marshals the increasing urge to grab her shoulders and shake her, demanding to know if she had seen a red Dragonborn with bottomless black eyes.
At this point in his ongoing nightmare, he is becoming sickly certain that hearing her answer would be even worse than the creeping dread that is slowly overtaking him.
“Well, all’s well that ends well, I suppose!” With a false laugh and a bright grin he doesn’t feel even a fraction of, he commits to the course he’s set for himself.
Stay alive.
Don’t drive off one of your least useless comrades, in the event that this ends up not being some illusory nightmare realm.
Find a camp or similarly secluded place of respite.
Have a breakdown that will rank in at least the top ten of your very long life.
Make a plan.
Find Kelis.
#i'm going to be adding chapter one as a separate reblog to keep things tidy#so apologies to anyone who sees it several times!#my writing#my fic#finira bene#kelis#bg3 fic#bg3 fanfic#bg3 astarion#dark urge#dragonborn#dragonborn tav#astarion x dark urge#astarion x tav#astarion x halsin#astarion/halsin#astarion/dark urge#astarion/tav#astarion
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Five
@lawluevents - Day 6: Conqueror's haki/Hand holding
@onepiece-bingo: Sound of Drums
Alternate summary: 1044 because of course it is :)
Alternate summary 2: write Nika Luffy without him turning into a giggly murdering maniac challenge
! MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 1044 (ENDING OF ONIGASHIMA) !
[ Read on AO3 | series ]
—————
Luffy never thought about losing. He refused to think about losing. There was too much on the line in Wano and if he lost to Kaido, then all of it was going to be destroyed. He promised he would win and smash the night to pieces—to Momo, to Tama, to Yamato, to Kin, to his crew, to Torao. He promised to win no matter what.
And more than that, he himself couldn’t forgive Kaido.
He couldn’t afford losing to this man.
And so, when he did lose…
He was shocked to find out that he wasn’t upset, disappointed… or even angry.
No; instead, he was happy. Who knew losing would be so much fun?
A giggle bubbling out of his chest, Luffy got to his knees. There was blood dripping off his face and staining the ground under him but he couldn’t feel any pain. He felt too giddy, too excited to get back to fighting.
What was that DOOM-DUT-DA-DA rhythm resounding all around him? A drum? Sure sounded like one… but that didn’t feel right. Oh, was that his heart beating?
“Okay, that’s funny!”
A new wave of giggles overcame him as he finally got to his feet; he felt so light now, like some invisible restraints had been lifted, giving him all the freedom he ever wanted. He was sure he could do everything he wanted to right now.
Looking at his hands, Luffy clenched and unclenched his fist a few times, testing. What if I make it bigger, bigger than Gear Third?
He barely finished the thought before his fist blew up into giant proportions—big enough to make it seem like he could just reach out and grab the moon off the sky, and big enough to make Luffy himself stumble at the sudden shift in his centre of gravity. Quickly shrinking his hand back to normal size, Luffy grinned.
“This is amazing!” he laughed happily, jumping up and down. He didn’t even notice until now but did his clothes turn white? That was so weird! “I really can do anything!! I can totally fight a bit longer like this! This is my peak. This is Gear Five!!”
Taking a deep breath, Luffy focused on his surroundings. He could feel countless people down below him, scrambling around as the battle went on. There were several strong Voices—Kaido’s was the strongest but he could hear Sanji, Yamato, Jaggy, Momo a bit further away… Zoro’s voice was weak but also there, just like several of the Akazaya samurai.
If at all possible, Luffy’s smile widened even more when he found his Torao.
He knew he and Jaggy would win. Torao was strong, after all; much stronger than stupid Big Mom.
His presence was comforting; hearing his Voice was grounding, keeping Luffy’s mind from getting off-track. He really was the last one to wrap up his fight, huh? That wouldn’t do! He couldn’t keep everyone waiting like this!
Luffy snickered, cracking the knuckles of both his hands before pulling his right arm back. “Here I go, Kaido!” Luffy called to no one in particular, letting his haki flow—
—only to startle at how effortlessly it came to him. Has his Conqueror’s haki always been this powerful? Did it always so free, so light, was it always so easy for him to control?
This form, this Gear Five… It was just so fun!
A grin on his lips, Luffy thrust his hand forward, letting it grow into the arm of a giant to easily bust a hole in the Skull Dome’s ceiling, grabbing for Kaido. He laughed at how tiny the dragon’s body seemed in his hold. Like a simple rope, just ready to be tossed around.
This was where the real battle started.
—————
“Idiot!”
“Huh?” Luffy blinked, pausing with where he was stuffing his mouth with meat to stare at Torao.
He was pacing all over the room in the Shogun’s castle that Momo let Luffy use while he recovered, his hair dishevelled from how he had been running his hands through it in frustration. He wasn’t looking at Luffy, only muttering something to himself about ‘reckless morons who never stop to think’.
“What did I do?!” Luffy asked, instead of doing something stupid like laughing. The sight that Law’s stress made might have been very funny, but Luffy also didn’t have a death wish.
Law clicked his tongue, his head snapping up to glare at Luffy. “Take a fucking guess,” he hissed angrilly.
Tilting his head to the side, Luffy thought hard about what might have caused Law to act like this but he was drawing a blank. “You wanted to eat this meat?” Luffy tried, offering him the half-eaten drumstick in his hand.
“No. Try again.”
Luffy studied Law’s face, taking note of how Law’s eyes flickered away from Luffy’s face to dart all over Luffy’s body—over his injuries—and suddenly, Luffy understood. And he couldn’t keep the warm, happy smile off his face as much as he tried. “Torao~” he sang easily.
That only earned him another glare and he had to bite on his lower lip to stop himself from giggling as he shook his head. Torao could be so cute sometimes.
“Torao, I’m fine,” Luffy said, trying to sound reassuring but he wasn’t sure how good a job he was doing with the way his voice shook. He was just so happy his Torao was so worried; it made him feel all warm and fuzzy in ways he didn’t bother deciphering. He simply basked in the feelings, and in the pissed off, adorable look on Law’s face.
“You died,” Law said flatly.
“Did not!” Luffy cried in his defence.
Clicking his tongue again, Torao sighed deeply. “You’re impossible.”
Unable to keep it in any longer, Luffy snickered—while ignoring the frustrated noise Law let out in response. Discarding his meat on the provided plate, Luffy quickly wiped his hands before he turned back to Law and stretched out one of his arms to grab Law’s elbow, forcing him to come closer to where Luffy was sitting on his futon.
Surprisingly, Law didn’t protest; he let Luffy drag him over to himself, only turning his eyes away so that he wasn’t looking at him. Embarrassed, and unwilling to show it, and Luffy grinned.
So damn cute.
Letting go of Law’s elbow, Luffy let his fingers slide down Law's arm until he found his hand, taking it in his own. Slowly, he brought Law’s hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the inside of his wrist—right at the edge of his soulmark—before lacing their fingers together.
“Torao, I love you,” he said in a teasing voice, making Law freeze.
He didn’t say anything for a long while, only standing there completely tense… until he clicked his tongue and finally deflated. Luffy wasn’t surprised when a moment later, Law flicked his forehead—armament haki and all—before he heaved a sigh and replied, “Don’t I-love-you me in this situation.”
“But it’s working!” Luffy said cheekily, sticking out his tongue.
Law narrowed his eyes. “How about I cut your dick off and toss it into the hole with Kaido. It’s not like you’re using it anyway.”
“You wouldn’t!!” Luffy gasped.
“Fucking try me,” Law growled back and Luffy gulped.
Maybe he shouldn’t be pushing Torao much further… Oh well!
“I’ll still love you though,” Luffy said defiantly, squeezing Law’s hand for good measure.
Law didn’t say anything to that… but when he squeezed Luffy’s hand back, that was all the answer Luffy needed.
#one piece#lawlu#trafalgar law#trafalgar d water law#luffy#monkey d luffy#opfanfic#lawlu fanfic#one piece spoilers#opspoilers#op spoilers#one piece chapter 1044#op 1044#ch 1044#ch. 1044#sun god nika#wano act 3#wano#during onigashima#post-onigashima#soulmate au#soulmate identifying marks#fluff#comfort#cute#established relationship#katie pretends to fic#lawluweek2023#one piece bingo#chains of fate
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